


pd101 drabble trashcan

by fruti2flutie



Category: I.O.I (Band), Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: F/F, Gen, M/M, also i somehow messed up the tags so they're not really in order anymore lol, i'll be adding relationship tags only as i go bc this is gonna be Messy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-11-04 21:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 28,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10999437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruti2flutie/pseuds/fruti2flutie
Summary: various drabbles for trainees of pd101. can be seen as either romantic of platonic (mostly). rated mainly G but maybe i'll throw in some profanities. varying chapter lengths (typically 500-2k). check the chapter summaries & titles for what/who the heckity it'll be about + word count. i hate myselfsee me @tumblr!!! sorry, but i'm not taking any requests!!!





	1. kim samuel/park jihoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sort of high school au w/ samuel the new kid & an uninvited jihoon
> 
> 765 wc

Samuel moves into a new house in his second year with his parents, transferring schools and discovering how shitty calculus is all at once. He’s done this before, the skillful act of picking up everything and bringing it to somewhere new. When he makes friends, relationships are skin-deep and they never keep in touch. Nothing in his life has really stayed constant aside from his family and his love for music.

Dancing is Samuel’s passion. No matter what school he enters, whenever he’s toured around classrooms and hallways he makes sure to ask, “Do you have a dance club?” Sometimes the answer is no, we don’t have the resources to support the arts department, and Samuel nods solemnly and spends school days bored and out of touch. Sometimes the answer is yes, they meet on Tuesdays, and Samuel grins so wide as he anticipates a new environment to explore.

Unfortunately, this school falls into the former category. Samuel tries not to look too disappointed, but he can’t keep the frown off his face for his first day of classes. He makes acquaintances, tells some jokes, and at one point a girl passes him a note that says _u r cute :)_. All in all, it’s a good day. He comes back home, backpack strung over one shoulder, and sighs.

No one is here, which isn’t new. His parents are chemical engineers who work in the lab or field until they feel like death (his father’s words, not his own). Samuel turns on a few lights as he heads to the kitchen in search of snacks to munch on while he does homework.

After he turns on the kitchen light, he searches the fridge and whistles a song. He finds some fruit in the bottom compartment, so he settles for an apple and a mandarin before closing the door.

“OH MY GOD,” screams Samuel, scrambling backwards, because there is a _person_ behind the refrigerator door, watching him silently. “Who are you and why are you in my house!?” he cries, voice going up three octaves like he hasn’t reached puberty yet, holding his fruit to his chest.

The person — a boy, possibly around his age, with soft features and big eyes — laughs. _Laughs_. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“What the heck,” Samuel murmurs under his breath, breathing unevenly. God, he’s too young to have a heart attack! Louder, he repeats, “Why are you in my house? Who do you think you are!?”

The boy smiles. “Park Jihoon. And you are?”

“Kim Samuel,” Samuel says, on instinct, but then he flushes. “Wait, no. That’s not what’s important here. Forget I said that. I take it back.” Jihoon chuckles, and Samuel feels belittled. “You’re _trespassing_ , dude. Get out!”

Jihoon, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and gym shorts, shrugs. “Technically, I lived here first. If anyone’s trespassing, you are.” He takes a step forward, hands held behind his back, and Samuel reflexively steps back. “What do you have to say about that?”

“T-That makes literally no sense. The tenants sold us this house, and they moved out months ago.” Samuel gulps. “What’re trying to play at?”

Jihoon takes another step, grinning, and says, “I live here. I’ve lived here for over a decade.” He’s right in front of Samuel now, sending chills down his spine. He reaches his hand towards Samuel’s face, making Samuel’s eyes widen, and laughs again.

“Oh my god.” Samuel trips over his feet and lands on the ground, his apple and mandarin rolling unceremoniously on the floor. “You— You— You—”

“Hello, I am a ghost.” Jihoon playfully wiggles his fingers. “Since you live here now, I guess I’ll have to haunt you. Spooky, isn’t it?”

“You’ve gotta be joking,” Samuel says nervously. Jihoon phases his hand through Samuel again and Samuel all but cries. “Please! Stop that! You’re freaking me out, man!”

“I’m proving my point,” Jihoon rationalizes. “I would hug you, if I could!”

“I beg of you, Jihoon. Don’t.” Samuel picks up his apple and mandarin, sighing. Jihoon laughs. “Does this mean you’ll follow me everywhere?”

Jihoon shrugs. “Depends on how I feel. I’ll let you have your privacy, when you need it.”

So it seems Samuel can’t get out of this. Jihoon, weird teenage ghost, looks harmless enough. For a dead person who’s lived in the generation before Samuel, he has a trendy idol charm, too. At least Samuel won’t have a wrinkly old woman haunting him.

“Do you know how to do calculus?” asks Samuel, taking a bite of the apple.

“Um... Is that the math with shapes?”

Samuel groans.


	2. hong eunki/jung jung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fantasy au w/ yuehua as tree nymphs & water nymph eunki
> 
> 633 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SUPER EMO

Spring is nature’s way of saying _good morning_ to all the nymphs of the land. Zhengting breathes in the fresh air, relaxing his arms and letting the leaves on his arms unfurl. There are flowers beginning to bloom in his hair, pink and red buds poking out from the strands. The other tree nymphs have yet to awaken from winter’s slumber, so as the eldest Zhengting helps coax them to life.

“Ah, thank you, Zhengting,” says Hyungseob, grateful. He raises his arms high above his head and shakes, his leaves rustling with the movement. “I can finally move again! What a feeling!”

Justin shudders as he flexes his fingers. “Is it always like this?” he asks, grimacing. He’s one of the youngest nymphs, and this winter had been his first hibernation. “I swear, I was bored out of my mind.”

“It’s not so bad after a while,” Euiwoong, only a year older than Justin, says optimistically. He and Seunghyuk, another tree nymph, had only needed a slight push to wake, the latter having gone through several winters before this. “For us, at least we get to rest. The water nymphs, they have it so hard!”

“How so?” inquires Justin.

“The water nymphs are stuck underneath a layer of ice,” Hyungseob responds. “Sure, they can hang out with the other nymphs in their body of water, but it gets old. Most of them enjoy being free, jumping from pond to lake to river.”

“I should check on— on them,” Zhengting says, gazing in the direction of the waterfall. Hyungseob waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Stop. Don’t do that.”

“You just want to see how Eunki is doing,” Seunghyuk teases. Zhengting blushes, but he neither confirms nor denies the claim.

“I’ll be back before sundown. Try not to make a mess while I’m gone, especially Hyungseob. The squirrels are our friends, but that does not mean we should be raising an army.”

Hyungseob huffs, “That was _one time_.” Justin laughs as, at that moment, a squirrel tries to climb up Hyungseob’s leg and Hyungseob screeches.

“Be careful out there! Don’t talk to any strange fungi,” advises Euiwoong, hugging Zhengting goodbye.

“I won’t,” Zhengting assures.

The waterfall is past the field in which the tree nymphs reside, hidden where the rocky terrain meets the grass. Zhengting reaches it easily, having traveled this path before many times. The waterfall is the heart of the forest, adorned with flower petals and uniquely made stones. The water trickles down into a small pool, the liquid clear and cool. There are chunks of ice, melting away, and a figure emerges from the water, ripples gliding across his skin.

“Oh? Zhengting?” Eunki’s voice is like heaven in a bottle, just a tad scratchy from disuse. “Have you come to say hello?”

Zhengting smiles, gently rubbing at the leaves near his knuckles. “Of course,” he chuckles. “How did the winter treat you?”

Eunki hums, a soft sound, low in his throat. Water flows throughout his body, across his chest, as he suddenly laughs. “Amiably, I suppose. I lounged about, doing nothing in particular. The other water nymphs are waiting for the ice to completely go, but I couldn’t wait.”

“I see.” Zhengting bites his bottom lip, tastes of amber and wood on his tongue. “Would you... Ah, would you...”

“Would I...?” Eunki smiles, leaving the water completely. He drips onto the soil, the water clinging to his hair and limbs. He reaches out and takes Zhengting’s hand, the refreshing sensation of smooth water meeting rough bark. “What is it, Zhengting?”

Zhengting looks down as Eunki interlocks their fingers together, feeling like he’s breathless and needs a bucketful of carbon dioxide, the flowers atop his head blooming. “W-Would you care to take a walk with me?” he stammers.

Eunki nods. “Yes, I’d love that.”


	3. choi yoojung/kim doyeon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> high school au w/ bffs!dodaeng at a sleepover
> 
> 574 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dodaeng is Love, dodaeng is Life

“Paint my nails,” Doyeon says, lying on the bed, wiggling her toes in front of Yoojung’s face. She’s on her back, flipping through a fashion magazine and dog-earing the pages she wants to cut out to scrapbook later, while Yoojung is doing the same on the floor.

Making a face, Yoojung pushes Doyeon’s foot and huffs, “You have two hands and ten fingers. Paint your own nails.”

“ _Yoojung_ ,” whines Doyeon. “Pretty please? My toenails look so ugly.”

“Toenails aren’t supposed to look pretty,” Yoojung retorts.

“I want _mine_ to look pretty.” Doyeon rolls onto her stomach. “Didn’t you get a whole batch of nail polishes for Christmas? You haven’t even used them yet!” She wriggles towards the end of the bed and slinks down onto Yoojung’s magazines.

“Wow, it’s not like I was doing anything, Doyeon.”

Doyeon grins. “Exactly! So let’s paint our nails. Me first.” Yoojung, finally smiling, relents.

These days, when Yoojung isn’t feeling her best, swamped with high expectations and depression, Doyeon comes to her house for dinner and a sleepover. Yoojung’s parents are used to Doyeon’s presence; she and Yoojung have been best friends since they met in primary school, attached at the hip almost always. The sleepovers are usually study dates, both girls doing homework from the same textbooks. If Doyeon needs help, Yoojung will gladly offer assistance and vice versa. Other times, like today, the sleepover is just a time to relax and indulge in their interests, like crafting or mixing music or makeovers or watching cooking tutorials until midnight.

Yoojung paints Doyeon’s toenails. Her basket of polishes and stencils is under her bed, and she fishes it out for Doyeon to marvel. She picks bright summer colors for her lanky friend: orange, yellow, and red. Yoojung has always seen her best friend as the warmth of the sun. Doyeon braids Yoojung’s short hair as Yoojung paints, careful not to break her concentration.

Yoojung paints a white base coat on the toenails before going over them with the solid colors, satisfied at the coverage. When she finishes painting Doyeon’s toenails, Yoojung moves on to Doyeon’s fingernails. Doyeon has to stop braiding and instead watches, fascinated, as Yoojung focuses on keeping the brush off Doyeon’s skin.

Yoojung does the final stroke on Doyeon’s pinky and grins. “There. All finished.” She kisses her fist, proud. “My work is absolutely perfect.”

“Does that mean it’s dry yet?” asks Doyeon. She splays out her hands, which look like chicken feet, and purses her lips. “You really, really did a good job.”

“Just wait, like, ten minutes. And then I put on a clear top coat.” Yoojung reads the bottle again, just to check. “Yeah, ten minutes. And thanks. I tried very hard.”

Doyeon crosses her legs. “I should’ve gone to the bathroom before this,” she sighs, and Yoojung snorts. “Can you feed me some chips? The cheesy ones.”

Yoojung grabs a potato chip and holds it in front of Doyeon’s mouth. “Say _ah_.” Doyeon does, and Yoojung drops the chip in like she’s feeding a baby bird. Doyeon chews with her mouth half open, lips smacking, shoulders shaking.

“You look so weird!” Yoojung cackles.

Doyeon smiles and gives her best friend a thumbs-up. Her face immediately falls as she gasps, “Oh, crap, I think I smudged it.”

“To be honest, I had a feeling you would.” Yoojung laughs at Doyeon’s exaggerated pout. “Come ‘ere, you skinny weirdo. I’ll fix it for you.”


	4. ong seongwoo/kang daniel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> university au w/ dormmates!ongniel
> 
> 757 wc

“Ya boy landed a hot date for Friday night,” croons Seongwoo, slamming open the front door and probably making that dent the doorknob keeps digging into the wall half a centimeter deeper. Daniel grimaces. They should really do something about that, but alas, their combined funds could barely buy them a potted plant. “Hey, aren’t you gonna congratulate me?”

“Congrats,” Daniel says, mustering a smile. He’s been pouring over his textbooks for the last three hours and his head is killing him, so optimism isn’t on his side. “Would you mind closing the door? I’m cold.”

Seongwoo grins. “Sorry, sorry.” He closes the door and bounds towards the couch, not caring that Daniel is busy actually being productive. He hugs Daniel tightly and rubs his cheek on Daniel’s shoulder. “Mm, you smell good.”

“You’re such a liar,” Daniel chuckles. “I smell like Starbucks and Axe body spray. I disgust myself.”

Seongwoo inhales deeply, goofy smile stuck on his face. “It’s the signature _Kang Daniel_ scent. It’d sell for thousands in the store. Out of stock the first day because it’s so good.”

Daniel scoffs and pushes Seongwoo off, hoping the elder doesn’t notice how pink his cheeks are. “Who’d you get a date with, huh? Anyone I know?”

Beaming, Seongwoo leans back on the couch and tilts his head to the side. “I want you to guess,” he says cheekily.

Daniel scratches his chin, a little peeved but not willing to admit that aloud. “Can I get hints? Like, I have to narrow down the pool of contenders.”

“I’ll allow... five questions,” Seongwoo declares.

“What’s their name?” Daniel tries, but Seongwoo shakes his head.

“Multiple-choice questions only. A question like that ruins the fun in guessing.” Seongwoo glares at Daniel pointedly. “I’m letting you off with a warning for that one, so you still get five questions.”

Daniel rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine. Are they a guy, gal, or nonbinary?”

“Guy!”

“Younger or older?”

“Younger!”

Daniel takes a few seconds to think for more in-depth questions. “Is he a friend, acquaintance, or stranger?”

“A friend, definitely.”

That really does nothing for Daniel. Seongwoo loves socializing, interacting with all kinds of people and finding his way into their lives. If you ask him, Seongwoo would probably say he’s great friends with the cashier at the convenience store whom he sees every other week. The _definitely_ is what gets Daniel thinking, though, because Ong Seongwoo only considers around a dozen people as “definite friends,” which means friends he could never live without. Friends like his dance crew, high school buddies.

“Has he ever dyed his hair before?” asks Daniel.

Seongwoo purses his lips. “That’s not multiple-choice,” he whines, Daniel shrugging, “but the answer is yes. Three times.” He crosses his arms. “One question left. Make it count.”

Daniel laughs, “You’re killing me, Ong.” Right now, with all the hints given, he can only think of one person. One person, very specific to himself. But that can’t be right, right? Teasingly, he pokes at Seongwoo’s side and asks, “Hey, is it me?”

Contrary to what Daniel expects, which is Seongwoo shoving him away and scoffing, Seongwoo turns bright red. His face has always been an open book for his emotions, and all Daniel can see is embarrassment, shyness. Seongwoo scratches behind his ears, clears his throat, and looks the other way.

“Multiple-choice,” grumbles Seongwoo, and Daniel can easily see how red his ears are. “You have to ask in _multiple-choice_ , Kang.”

“So... it _is_ me?” Daniel can’t keep the giddiness out of his voice. For years he’s had the hugest crush on his best friend, and he hasn’t been able to do anything about it in fear of ruining their friendship and consequently their living arrangement. Two peas in a pod, Ong and Kang, never mentioning one without the other. He knows how much Seongwoo hates cliches, which is why Daniel had never had the guts to confess his cheesy crush since first sight, but if Seongwoo takes the first step...

Seongwoo gives him a watery smile. “Surprise?” he says. “I— I won tickets for this dancing show on Friday, and I was gonna ask you to come along. Be my plus one. Hold my hand and all that mushy junk. If that’s cool with you, because it’s super cool with me.”

Daniel laughs at how Seongwoo fumbles for words, the normally eloquent speaker at a loss. For once, Daniel has the upperhand. “You know what?” he says, capturing Seongwoo’s attention. “I’ll give you three choices.”

“Wah, you’re the devil!”


	5. lai guanlin/yoo seonho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> canonish w/ Big Cube Chicks' nighttime talks pre-pd101
> 
> 624 wc

“How do you say this one?” asks Guanlin, pointing to the picture of a watermelon in his workbook. The two boys are in the trainee dorm, preparing for rest, what little makeup they apply on their faces cleaned and prescription glasses perched on their noses. There are two days until the judge evaluations for the second season of _Produce 101_ , and they value what little downtime they can scramble for.

Seonho peers underneath his bed, the top bunk, because Guanlin is too big for it and likes working in the bottom bunk anyway. “Pineapple,” he answers, smiling. Guanlin narrows his eyes, skeptical. “Okay, not pineapple. You caught me! That’s a watermelon, hyung.”

Guanlin nods. He copies down the characters, pen strokes careful. “Wa-ter-me-lon,” he repeats. “It’s green on the outside and red on the inside.”

“And it has black seeds,” Seonho adds, still hanging upside-down. Guanlin hurriedly writes down the sentence before he forgets. “There was this one time, last summer, where I was able to eat a whole watermelon by myself. The thing was the size of my head.”

“I can believe it,” Guanlin laughs. He looks up. “Do you have any more snacks?”

The corners of Seonho’s lips quirk. All trainees have a strict diet regimen, but Yoo Seonho has always been a sneaky fellow. He reaches under his pillow and procures two boxes of cookies. “What do you take me for?” he says, tossing one box down.

“The coolest trainee ever,” Guanlin praises. He pops a whole cookie in his mouth and grins.

“You got that right.” Seonho munches on a cookie, crumbs falling from his lips. “Are you almost done with your Korean practice, hyung? How much do you have left?”

Guanlin flips through the pages of the workbook, humming. “I only need to do ten pages, but I’ve already finished thirteen.” He smiles to himself. “I want to learn faster. Be better.”

“Wow, so cool.” Seonho grins as Guanlin holds up his pen like he’s about to throw it at him. “Seriously, hyung! I don’t think I’d have it in me to learn another language.” He rubs his nose. “And you’re already fluent in _two_.”

Ducking his head, Guanlin breaks apart a cookie with his hands and lets out a chuckle. “ _You’re_ cool,” he retorts. “Piano. Taekwondo.” He looks up. “Nice and handsome, too.”

Seonho reddens from the sudden rain of compliments. “Eh, hyung, you’re too much. We’re just starting out.” He eats another cookie, tapping his fingers on the edge of the bed. “You should sleep soon, y’know. Too much studying will give you a nosebleed.”

“Nosebleed?” Guanlin says, eyebrows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“Blood.” Seonho pinches his nose and makes a pained noise, fluttering his hands in front of his face. “From here.” The demonstration is enough for Guanlin, but Seonho should work more on his acting.

“Nosebleed. I got it.” Guanlin writes it down in the margin of his paper, getting Seonho’s help to spell it right. Afterwards, he turns off the light, pulls up his covers, and stuffs the cookie box under his pillow. Seonho does the same.

“Goodnight,” says Guanlin.

“Goodnight, hyung.”

Later in the night, Guanlin hears the crinkling of plastic and crunching above him. Three or four a.m.? He’s groggy, confused, and a little irritated, but that doesn’t stop him from climbing up the bed ladder and joining Seonho in his post-midnight snack adventures.

“Hey, hyung,” Seonho slurs, lethargically reaching into the snack bag and feeding Guanlin a shrimp cracker. “We’ll be superstars.”

Guanlin doesn’t know what that means. Before he can ask, Seonho leans his head on Guanlin’s shoulder, yawning, a lone chip wedged between his fingers as his eyes droop. Guanlin decides he’ll just ask in the morning.


	6. bae jinyoung/lee daehwi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> high school au w/ anxious kid jinyoung & personification of happiness daehwi
> 
> 772 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why did i create this fic

There’s an undeniable air of confidence about Lee Daehwi, which can be attributed to, well, his undeniable confidence. Not only is he naturally talented, he’s the hardest worker Jinyoung knows and won’t stand to be insulted. Albeit young, Daehwi has all the potential in the world. Heck, he could take over the world if he really wanted.

Okay, maybe that’s pushing it. Lee Daehwi, dictator, doesn’t have a nice ring to it anyway.

Jinyoung can’t imagine himself in Daehwi’s shoes. Every day feels like a battle of nerves for Jinyoung, too anxious to keep his chin up and his back straight. His self-confidence is lower than the gum stuck on the ground. One time, in middle school, he got a bloody nose and was too nervous to ask where the nurse’s office was. If it were Daehwi, Daehwi would stand from his desk and yell, “Someone call 119! I’m dying here!” Daehwi has that cute, playful sort of personality, making him likeable to practically everyone.

Jinyoung had met him earlier this semester in their shared economics class. He remembers vividly how their first meeting went. Jinyoung had worn his black hoodie and sweatpants, his more presentable clothes in the washer, tired from a night worrying about the first day of class. Tossing and turning all night, Jinyoung prayed that there wouldn’t be any self-introductions (but, being the first day, he could only dream). The only person Jinyoung had been comfortable with was his neighbor Woojin, who is still in middle school, so he stayed under the radar during classes and tried not to draw attention to himself. He was the first person in the economics classroom, so naturally he gravitated towards the back.

As more students entered, none of them paid the edgy tall kid in the back any attention. When Daehwi came inside, dressed in music note suspenders and shorts, he was whistling a Twice song and clutching his sticker-covered binder to his chest. Since Daehwi arrived when the class was moderately full, he had the opportunity to sit anywhere, by anyone. Everyone, aside from Jinyoung, greeted him excitedly, too, which meant he was familiar with them.

Daehwi had taken one glance at Jinyoung, smiled, and headed towards him, putting his stuff on the desk adjacent to Jinyoung’s.

“Hello there, stranger,” he’d greeted, teeth shining so bright Jinyoung had to resist the urge to shield his eyes (though he did squint). “Do you mind if I sit here and become your friend?”

And that’s all it took for Jinyoung to fall, really.

Friendship with Daehwi is easy. After exchanging numbers, he’s always the one to text first, never minding if Jinyoung responds days later or mere seconds. He introduces Jinyoung to his own close friend group, three boys who have bright grins like Daehwi’s, one of whom shares a name with Woojin. Daehwi doesn’t force Jinyoung to talk more than he’s comfortable with, letting his hand rest on the taller boy’s thigh and tapping a rhythmic beat that keeps his calm. It’s still nice nonetheless, Jinyoung in all black being doted on by Daehwi, sparkling in pink and white.

A few weeks after getting close, Jinyoung has Daehwi meet Small Woojin, aptly nicknamed because of both shorter height and younger age compared to Big Woojin. It’s for a picnic Jinyoung’s parents are hosting, half the neighborhood invited. Instead of Jinyoung holed in his room, waiting for the gathering to end, he’s sitting in the backyard with Daehwi and Small Woojin, exchanging childhood stories over fruit punch. Daehwi spends the whole time cooing over how cute Small Woojin is, the boy complaining that he’s not cute, he’s _cool_.

“Keep telling yourself that, buddy,” laughs Jinyoung, and Daehwi goes back to pinching Small Woojin’s cheeks.

Sometimes, Jinyoung fears that Daehwi is only pitying him, when they walk together in the hallways and get judging stares from other students. Jinyoung fears that Daehwi is treating him like a charity case, no substance behind his actions. Swiftly, Daehwi shoots down those thoughts quickly as he loops his arm with Jinyoung’s, tells him that they should go to a new café down the road, there’s this raspberry tart I think you’ll like.

“Friendship is all about sharing,” Daehwi starts, grinning, “which is why you’ll give me half your macchiato and I’ll give you half my latte.”

“You wish,” scoffs Jinyoung, but he knows he will.

Daehwi calls Jinyoung _emo giraffe_ and Jinyoung calls Daehwi _starshine_. Jinyoung doesn’t remember a time before Daehwi, too hooked on the feeling of completeness with the younger male to even attempt. Because, Jinyoung thinks warmly, they make a pretty good pair.


	7. hong eunki/jung jung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: nonau jungki (w/ the eunki-centric pd101 experience & Friendship™)
> 
> 1462 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is actually the first request i've gotten & done lol sorry this took a while to finish!!!! i leveled up to Super Emo while writing

Eunki knows he’s a dancer, knows that dancing on a stage for a crowd of thousands has always been his dream. He knows that he can be the best with hard work, practice, and attention, but he’s never met anyone who he can specifically call his rival.

See, Hong Eunki is a trainee. When you’re a trainee in the industry, everyone is your rival, no matter what their specialty. Eunki is facing skilled singers and rappers, waiting ages and ages for the opportunity to debut, to be deemed _ready_ for the public-eye. He’s watched friends come and go, either finding success in a lottery game or throwing in the towel for a match that has yet to start.

Six years, and Eunki is still waiting. He’s practically residing in the practice room, memorizing his reflection in the mirror, using his blood, sweat, and tears to become stronger, better. He’s made a fool of himself according to his father, who’s told him after every phone call and text that he’s ashamed of his son, of dancing, of what Eunki loves with his whole heart and soul. After so many times, the words stop hurting. Eunki is desperate to achieve his dream, but it’s hard to stay balanced on this thinning tightrope, too high off the ground, no idea how far the other side is.

At the announcement of the second season of _Produce 101_ , the trainee survival show that swept the nation, Eunki finds hope. GON Entertainment lets him go in for an audition, dancing as his main talent. BULLDOK and other past contestants of the show are rooting for him, telling him to prepare for the most intensive training in his life, if he makes it, and to keep a strong will. He’s nervous in front of the camera, but he completes his performance, the staff behind the camera clapping politely.

Hong Eunki, GON Entertainment trainee, becomes one out of one-hundred-and-one.

There are special segments that they’re told to film pre-broadcast: Introduction, Eye Contact, Meringue Time, and Hidden Box. Introduction is self-explanatory, and Eunki gets dolled up to showcase his singing and personal talents. Eye Contact is a staring contest, which Eunki may’ve missed the point of promoting himself, but he makes it past eight minutes with _some_ crying, which is enough of an accomplishment for him. Meringue Time is literally making meringue by hand. Eunki is glad he’d used to bake with his mom in primary school, so he succeeds with time to spare.

For Hidden Box, Eunki is paired with another trainee. His name is Zhengting, a twenty-two-year-old Chinese trainee from Yuehua Entertainment, with a backwards cap hiding light hair. They briefly introduce themselves before they start, Zhengting slightly taller than Eunki so Eunki has to tilt his head up to converse with him. Zhengting is dancer, like a Eunki, and the oldest of the Yuehua trainees. Zhengting also speaks with an accent, which is cute, and accidentally calls Eunki _hyung_ a couple times. Eunki gently corrects him, Zhengting laughing at the blunder. Soon they’re ushered into the room to stand behind the box and the cameras.

Zhengting nervously wrings his hands. “Perhaps—” He grins, awkward. “There’s no rat in this, right?”

Eunki finds himself smiling at the inquiry. He asks, amused, “What’ll you do if it is a rat, hyung? Do you hate rats?”

“I’m _so scared_ of rats,” confesses Zhengting. “If it’s a rat, I’m done for!”

They greet the camera, a fixed routine now, and giggle in anticipation for the box as its readied. When the timer starts, Eunki gets his hand in the box first. Zhengting is too afraid and just watches him, teeth bared, tiny squeaks leaving his mouth as Eunki fires out his guesses. Jelly? Pudding? Oh, it’s pudding! Eunki gets the _ding-dong-daeng_ right when Zhengting lets out a frightened squeal. Eunki gets to promote himself while Zhengting puts on the X mask, but Eunki promotes Zhengting, too, putting a hand on the Chinese trainee’s shoulder and grinning widely until the time is up.

Afterwards, they laugh about it, hands sticky, and head back to practice.

——

During actual filming, Eunki makes a lot of friends. There’s this young trainee, Kwon Hyeob, who’s from the same agency as the winking boy. Kenta is a Japanese trainee that clicks with Eunki right away, and the older trainee is always there to comfort him and offer words of encouragement. Yongbin shares the same ranking as him, a polite guy, whose nose looks fake but is actually just him gifted with incredible genes. Hyunmin is from K-Tigers, where the trainees are skilled taekwondo artists, and is a bundle of cuteness despite being able to kick anyone’s face in when angered.

Eunki likes talking with Zhengting, honestly. They don’t do it often, but it’s nice. The two are downgrade buddies when they get re-ranked, like Yongbin is. Dropping from rank C to D, they had all chatted as they switched rooms, regretful but understanding. They stop fooling around in favor of putting their 100% into practice. They limit aloofness for focus. They need to succeed, they have to.

What’ll happen if Eunki loses?

There’s a dance battle, with all the trainees, the day after re-ranking. Yoojung and Doyeon of I.O.I are hosting the impromptu competition. Eunki feels more at home than ever before, all types of genres playing and countless trainees challenging their skills. B-boying, flipping, popping. Eunki comes out a few times, wacking and body rolling, having the time of his life with evaluations far from his mind. Trainees are cheering, roaring, screaming. Modern dance music comes on, and Eunki hears his own heartbeat pulsing in his ears as he steps onto the center stage.

Eunki has loved this type of music, how he can tell a story with his movements with all eyes on him. The way he splits his legs, stretches his arms, reaches towards an unattainable sky. He’s conveying his journey, his path. There’s silence.

But he’s not alone. Zhengting is a dancer, quiet footsteps gliding on the floor, matching Eunki’s movements, meeting his eyes from across the stage. It’s only them, it’s always been them, and Eunki experiences a thousand emotions all at once. Seeing Zhengting makes him feel safe, secure, silly, sentimental.

In love.

They get close, but not close enough, and there are screams, but they filter through deaf ears. Eunki takes Zhengting’s hand for a moment, a brief moment, and they part. Heartbreak. Loss. A goodbye.

After the music ends, Eunki and Zhengting take an unprecedented bow. The music fades and they’re given a standing ovation, a round of applause. Yoojung and Doyeon cheer incredibly loud for them, expressing their awe and wonderment. It was just like watching a musical, someone comments under his breath, loud enough for Eunki to hear. Trainees ask if they had choreographed it before, planned the dance somehow or some way.

“Of course not,” Eunki laughs, briefly catching Zhengting’s gaze from the other side of the D trainees. He’s smiling. “Where on earth would we have found the time for that?”

Hong Eunki is crowned the Dancing King. The title is full of heavy weight and expectations, but he adores it. This is what he wants. This is his dream.

——

(“Are you going home?”

Eunki turns around, instinctively fixing his hair and sniffling, eyes still red and puffy from eliminations an hour ago. He’d already packed his bag this morning, but he’s sitting and checking it, over and over, in case he leaves something behind. Something physical, not like his memories and friendship. Not like his hopes and will. Something tangible, like a toothbrush or sock. He wants to laugh, wants to cry, wants to—

“Eunki, are you going home?” Zhengting kneels to be at Eunki’s height, smile soft and patient. He looks so much more composed than Eunki is, so much different from than when they’d first met.

“Yeah, hyung. Yeah, I am.” Eunki nods, wiping at his eyes. His hands come away damp. “What about you?”

“Back to the company, back to the practice room,” Zhengting says.

Eunki widens his eyes. “You’re... You’re not gonna rest? Not gonna take a break?”

Zhengting shrugs. “Why stop when I can keep going? Sure, we’re not on the show anymore, but that doesn’t mean we stop being trainees. We still have our dreams.” He smiles. “I have to root for Euiwoong and Hyungseob with Seunghyuk and Justin, too. They need us.”

“Oh,” Eunki says. “That’s nice.”

“Hey, we can meet up, if you want. When you get back,” offers Zhengting, grinning. He reaches out for Eunki’s hand. “They don’t stop the trainees from seeing each other, you know. Not like idols.”

Eunki blushes. Maybe there really is a silver lining, after all this.)


	8. kim sejeong/kim sohye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hybrid au w/ sejeong wanting to adopt & bunny!sohye
> 
> 1032 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've gotten a few more requests, which i'm working on now!! please be patient!! no one is really giving me prompts (which is totally okay) so i'm writing some ridiculous aus lmao

“Get a pet, they said. Don’t be lonely, they said. It won’t be hard, they said.” Sejeong paces in front of the shelter, biting the nail of her thumb. She glances at the small window, where a rabbit hybrid has been staring at her for the last five minutes. The rabbit has her hand on the glass, eyes wide and imploring. “Oh my gosh, this was a mistake.”

Sejeong is perfectly fine living alone. Her studio apartment is the perfect size for one person; she has one couch, one bed, one dining room chair. She orders takeout for one, unless Mina or Nayoung invite themselves over, and has the perfect amount of space for her books and paintings. This is how she’s lived since graduating college as a health science major, now working at a local hospital as a physical therapist. This is what she’s used to.

When her mother had visited last weekend, she suggested she get a companion. Not a boyfriend or girlfriend, but just someone to be around. (“You look lonely, honey,” her mother had sighed. “A pet, possibly, like a cat or a turtle. Or maybe even a hybrid!”) Mina and Nayoung had agreed with the sentiment, after Sejeong told them, which made Sejeong entertain the idea a little more — turning one into two.

Sejeong had thought that getting a hybrid would be the best bet. She’s heard how they make great friends and can brighten moods instantly. Eunwoo has only good things to say about Pinky, her cat hybrid, who helps her shop for clothes and keeps her company at night. Bashfully, Sejeong had gone to them for advice and the two had practically leapt into the air at the news of independent woman Sejeong _possibly_ getting a hybrid.

Now, here Kim Sejeong stands, her purse over her shoulder, all the materials needed to adopt a hybrid inside it. Eunwoo had given her a list of questions to ask the specialist, for caring tips, as well as the hybrid, just to make sure they’re a match. Sejeong fishes the slip of paper from her purse, grips it tightly in both hands, and pushes open the door.

“Hi, miss. How can I help you?” greets a figure, sitting at the reception, dark brown ears flopped over her hair. “My name is Cathy. Ironic, since I’m a dog hybrid, but that’s life.”

“I’m... I’m looking to adopt,” stammers Sejeong, unsure smile on her face.

Cathy giggles, “First time, I’m guessing.” Sejeong nods, helpless. “Do you have any experience with hybrids in general, or are you going into this blind?”

“My friend, uh, she has a cat hybrid. I know the bare minimum.”

Standing, Cathy leads Sejeong through a door, rooms on either sides of the walls. “Taking care of a hybrid isn’t rocket science, but you have to know what’s best for you and your companion-to-be. Since you don’t seem to know where to start, I’ll let you talk to one of them.”

“Thank you,” Sejeong says. “Does it matter what breed they are?”

Cathy shakes her head. “Dogs, cats, and rabbits are in this shelter. All of them have the same positive attitudes, which is nice. Some more than others.” She knocks gently on a white door, listening in for a response. “I think you’d get along with Sohye. She’s sweet.”

After the door opens, Sejeong sees that this room belongs to the rabbit hybrid she’d seen through the window. Up close, Sejeong can admire the coffee-colored fur of her ears, the sparkle in her eyes. She has a curved smile, lips pink.

“Hey, Sohye. You have a visitor,” Cathy says. “This is... What was your name again?”

“I’m Sejeong. Nice to meet you.” Sejeong reaches out for a handshake, and Sohye takes it. The rabbit’s hand is small and soft.

“You can come in,” Sohye says, voice light and airy, opening the door wider.

“I’ll be at the reception,” says Cathy, backing out carefully. “Whistle, if you need me. Have fun, you two.” And, with that, she’s gone.

Sejeong goes into Sohye’s room, observing quietly. It smells like a mixture of warm vanilla and coconut. The window is a square fixture, a corkboard with reminder notes beside it, such as _practice ping-pong_ and _owe chungha unni 3 favors_. She sees Sohye’s bed, very plain, with a giant penguin plushie by her pillows. There’s a desk that has numerous drawers with papers sticking out of them.

Sohye pulls out the desk chair to get Sejeong to sit. “Sorry it’s so messy,” she says, plopping onto the edge of the bed. “I don’t expect anyone.”

“Why’s that?” asks Sejeong. Sohye sounds a bit... sad.

“I’m plain. I’m not very exciting. Compared to the other hybrids, that is.” Sohye pulls at a loose thread on her blanket. “When people meet me, they don’t see much potential.” She slightly purses her lips. “I don’t blame them.”

“You should have more confidence in yourself,” Sejeong chides. She remembers the list she’d prepared and takes it out. “What do you like to do, Sohye?”

Humming, long ears flopping, Sohye lets out a laugh. “I like learning new things. Being active. I play volleyball, too, and I like to talk to other hybrids.” She holds her hands together. “Humans are harder to talk with, I think.”

“You’re talking fine with me,” says Sejeong. “Could I be an exception?”

Sohye blushes. “Possibly.”

Sejeong rubs the back of her neck. “I like talking to you,” she says honestly. “I didn’t expect adopting to be so easy. If you’ll let me, that is. This... feels nice? I live alone, so I’m not used to sharing things. My apartment is kinda small, and I like to take jogs in the morning. My friends are clingy, so—”

“Yes,” interrupts Sohye, eyes blown wide and gaze starry. Her ears are pointed straight in the air and she bounds to hug Sejeong, almost knocking the chair over. “S-Sorry! I’m just so _excited_. I never in a million years would’ve expected someone to—”

“Pick you?” offers Sejeong, holding Sohye at arm’s length. “Believe in yourself, bunny. I’ll be there to believe in you, too.” Sohye giggles, biting back an enthusiastic grin.


	9. lai guanlin/park woojin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: guanlin/park woojin drabble (boating(??) au w/ guanlin as the fisherman’s son & woojin as... an unexpected catch)
> 
> 1082 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I REALLY LIKED WRITING THIS WOW
> 
> 07/15/2017: translated [here](http://my.w.tt/UiNb/z1gXZaSQNE) & [here](https://eternalserein.wordpress.com/2017/07/15/transfic-lgl-x-pwj-pd101-drabble-trashcan/) in vietnamese!

Guanlin has mixed feelings about the sea. For one thing, living his whole life on the docks has made him appreciate the cool waves, the squawking of seagulls. He and his friends spend summers on the sand, skipping stones, playing chicken. On the other hand, as the son of a fisherman, his father always comes home, sunburnt, and then the whole house reeks of fish and onions (because _that_ smell helps, apparently).

The sea is nice. Guanlin likes the memories, but he just doesn’t like the fishing. No, he really just hates the fishing. Unfortunately, life doesn’t happen to go the way he wants it to.

When his father wakes him up an hour before dawn on Saturday morning by throwing a bundle of fishing rods at him Guanlin knows he’s in for one long day. He heaves a long sigh as he dresses in shorts and a jacket, listening to his father ramble on about fishing metaphors and the virtue of patience. Before Guanlin can put his phone in his pocket, his father swipes it out of his hand and declares, “No technology on fishing trips, son.”

Well, there goes the next twelve hours.

The boat is a regular fishing vessel, painted blue with a white sail that flows in the wind. Four fishing poles are mounted to each side of the boat, one large net hanging from a movable crane. The captain’s compartment is the only shade available for miles, and Guanlin huddles himself in the corner of it for most of the morning until his father kicks him out to watch the waters. He leans over the edge of the boat, staring into the bottomless sea, trying not to throw up. In the meantime, his father organizes fish by size below deck.

Nothing like some father-son bonding. Guanlin rests his chin on his arms, idly kicking his leg, waiting for lunchtime.

“Guanlin, can you pull in the net? I need to check the engine,” says his father, poking his head out from the bottom deck.

Guanlin stands straight. “Can I wear gloves?” he asks.

His father scoffs, “Why would you need gloves? You’re turning a handle. Get going.” Guanlin groans.

The net is heavy, but the handle is semi-automated so Guanlin doesn’t have to work too hard. He grunts as he gets the net out of the water, dozens of fish captured in the net. It’s a considerable amount but by no means full, so he’s confused as to why the catch is so heavy. He gets the net to hang over the deck and then drops it down, releasing the pulley. The gray fish pour out of the net, flapping around helplessly, and when he spots a shimmer of red he gasps.

There is _someone_ amidst all the fish, fiery red hair damp across his forehead. He has half the pile of fish on top of him, so he can only move his upper half. He’s muttering to himself in a language Guanlin can’t understand, swatting at fish that flail his way. The expression on his face gives off a feeling of annoyance rather than distress, which is opposite of what Guanlin expects.

“You’re not a fish,” he says, matter-of-fact, and the boy looks up and squints at him. “What language was that?”

“Atlantean,” the boy says, showing off a sheepish grin, teeth sharp. He sticks out a hand for a handshake and then retracts it, realizing he’s sopping wet. He futilely wipes it on a fish, laughing. “Hi, I’m Woojin. Great weather we’re having.”

“I’m... Guanlin? I—” Guanlin sputters, scratching his head. “Do you need help? Were you drowning? Did I just rescue you? What is happening?”

Woojin lets out a snort. “You accidentally fished me in your net,” he says. “I wasn’t drowning, so you didn’t rescue me. It’d help a lot, though, if you threw me back overboard. Quick toss.”

Guanlin frowns. “Why in the world would I throw you— HOLY MOLY.”

The fish pile shifts enough for Woojin’s lower half to be seen, and Guanlin is completely taken aback by the glossy white and red striped tail _connected_ to Woojin’s body. The tail is slim, scaly, and resembles... well, a fish. When Woojin rolls onto his stomach the tail rolls, too. The fin at the very end of the tail shakes as it points in Guanlin’s direction.

“This can go one of two ways,” Woojin begins evenly while Guanlin’s mouth stays agape. “You quit staring at my tail, put me back in the water, and forget you ever saw me.”

“This image is burned on the back of my eyelids.” Guanlin hasn’t blinked for the last minute. He blinks. “This can’t be real.”

“Okay, so the second option, because I am very real.” Woojin turns over so he’s sitting up, flexing his tail as he bends his knees ( _wait does he have knees_ ) to his chest. “You quit staring at my tail, grab me a bucket of water, and we can hang out for a few hours. This can only work if you promise to keep my existence a secret from mankind. You’re cool.”

“My lips are sealed. I don’t have my phone on me,” Guanlin says, automatically patting himself down to reveal nothing. “I’m cool?”

“What’s a phone, human?” Woojin asks, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Uh... You can talk to other humans far away with it. Take pictures, videos. Or play games. I play games.” Guanlin laughs at Woojin’s awestruck expression. “My dad took it away for this fishing trip.”

“Your dad is here, too?”

“Yeah, he’s—” Guanlin is cut off by the clanging of a metal bucket dropped by said dad now joining them on the deck. “He’s right here. Say hi, Woojin.”

Woojin waves, toothy grin returning. “Hi, Guanlin’s dad. I’m a lionfish-breed merman from the shores of South Korea. Great weather we’re having.”

Guanlin’s father pales as he whips his head to Guanlin. “Son, what is— how is— why is—”

“As much as I love answering questions,” Woojin interjects, “would you spare a moment to fill that bucket with some seawater? It’s getting a little hard to breathe.” He flaps his tail, the puddle water splashing around him.

Mechanically, Guanlin’s father takes the bucket and nods. “Water. Yes. Bucket. On it.” He shuffles away, muttering, “There’s a mythical creature on my boat, dear Lord.”

Guanlin and Woojin glance at each other and hold back their laughter. Maybe Guanlin will grow to like fishing because of this. Just maybe.


	10. park woojin/kim jaehwan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: big woojin/jaehwan (production team au)
> 
> 721 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who just finished watching ep10 and upgraded into MEGA EMO

Woojin carries his camera bag with both his arms, nudging the door open with his foot. “Hello? Yoo-hoo? Jaehwan hyung, are you still in here?”

The studio is dimly lit and chilly, a soft metronome tone beating in the air. Behind the glass, Woojin can see the speakers and microphones all reorganized in the corner of the room. The red, green, and yellow lights on the mixing board are still flickering, the dials pushed to different levels. A laptop connected to the sound system still has clips of audio on it, which must be the new track Jaehwan is working on for the drama. Speaking of Jaehwan—

“I’m here,” sighs a dull voice. It comes from the black couch in the back of the room, where a body is sprawled across it with a magazine covering their face, a jacket draped over their shoulders like a blanket. Jaehwan isn’t wearing his shoes either, but he has on teddy bear socks. Typical.

“You sound dead,” remarks Woojin, setting down his camera bag by the door.

Jaehwan groans loudly, “Is it that obvious?” Woojin snorts. “Don’t turn on the lights. I’m saving electricity. Also, I just woke up from a nap and my eyes are still adjusting.”

Woojin chuckles as he walks over. He lifts Jaehwan’s legs and sits under them, letting the other male’s limbs rest in his lap. “Long day, hyung?” he asks, drumming his hands on Jaehwan’s shin.

Removing the magazine from his face, Jaehwan grumbles, “Is the day over already? There are no clocks in here. I have no concept of time. I don’t think I even ate lunch yet.”

“Hyung, it’s eleven p.m. And you wear a watch and there’s a clock on your laptop.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” mutters Jaehwan, pouting. Woojin hits his knee. Jaehwan leans on his hand. “Did filming go okay?”

“It rained,” Woojin proclaims, shrugging.

“Really? How’d you film?”

“I spent an hour moving around equipment. I probably gained, like, some sort of muscle by doing it. Arm muscle.” Jaehwan snorts. “When I was done moving it, the rain stopped so I had to move it out again. My hands were all red and sore afterwards.” Woojin shrugs. “The life of a cameraman.”

“I feel you, man. Well, I don’t lift things, so not really, but I can imagine.”

Woojin chuckles. “I mean, I was fine. You just have to bear through it, y’know? Other than that, the actors and actresses were in good spirits, so we were able to finish early. Seongwoo hyung, he’s the main lead with the good hair, remember? He got me an iced americano after filming. He’s so cool.”

“Lucky,” Jaehwan says, but he doesn’t sound jealous. He shifts his body so less of his weight is on Woojin, facing the inside of the couch. He hums. “You definitely deserved it, for what you did.”

“How about you, hyung? What have you been up to in the dungeon?”

Jaehwan sighs heavily. “The writer walked in after I finished mixing the song for the next soundtrack. I was mixing that song for the last two weeks, by the way. She listened, nodded her head, and told me to scrap it.” He sighs again. “Now I am here, on the couch, rethinking my life choices. And my applied music degree.”

“That sucks,” Woojin says, patting Jaehwan’s leg. “The writer not liking your song, not your degree.” Jaehwan nods solemnly.

“You got that right.”

Woojin tilts his head to the side and taps Jaehwan’s foot, smiling tentatively. “Jaehwan hyung, wanna go out for drinks? It’ll make you feel better. I mean, drinks _and_ food. You haven’t eaten yet, so.”

Jaehwan sits up right away and grins. “ _Yes_. I need to drown my sorrows in soju and grilled pork.” He puts on his jacket, slips on his sneakers, and puts away his laptop, saving the unusable file with a cluck of the tongue. “I spent all that time on audio and the writer doesn’t want to use it. This really stinks.”

“Hey, hyung.” Woojin grabs his camera bag and slings an arm around Jaehwan’s shoulder. “How does karaoke sound afterwards, hyung? You love to sing, yeah?”

Jaehwan squishes Woojin at his side, hugging him tightly. “Park PD, you know me so well!” Woojin laughs and tries not to look too pleased at the praise.


	11. kim donghyun/im youngmin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: youngmin x donghyun (royalty au w/ prince donghyun & servant youngmin feat. big woojin the knight & daehwi the prince)
> 
> 1239 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone!!! right now, i have a lot more ideas for pd101 drabbles, but everything is still a work in progress (aka not done at all)!!! i just wanted to say it'll probably take a lot longer for me to post things after this ^^; sorry if you were expecting a whole bunch of drabbles quickly, i put way too much effort into each of them & i take a long time to write ha ha

When Donghyun is five, his mother pulls him from the castle library and tells him he is to get married when he is eighteen. At first, he throws a tantrum, not entirely sure why. He doesn’t even know what  _ marriage _ is. After his father talks him down and tells him it would be an honor for him to do this service to his kingdom, as the youngest son, Donghyun learns to accept it. He would marry a stranger and unite two kingdoms together.

In the years that follow, Donghyun learns how to act like a prince. Stand up straight. Ride on horseback. Write between the lines. Learn how to read Latin. Don’t track mud in the ballroom. Eat all the vegetables on your plate, Donghyun, it’s not hard. Smile.

When Donghyun is nine, he is assigned his own personal knight. Woojin is shorter than him, teeth sharp like a fox’s. He’s reserved and quiet, but Donghyun thinks that’s because he’s of lesser status. They get along well, still, since they’re boys and Woojin is friendly. What is odd about the arrangement is that Woojin is a year younger than Donghyun, and Donghyun finds it charming when they both realize how young they are. 

“Do you ever find it strange?” asks Woojin, one day, long after they’ve grown comfortable enough to disregard status — when no one’s around, that is.

“Find what strange?” Donghyun hums, pulling a weed from the grass. “That you’re already ten and you don’t know how to tie your shoes?”

Woojin purses his lips. “Boots are much easier for a knight,” he says, petulant. “But, no. I meant to ask if you ever find your life as a prince strange. How you’ll rise to power by marrying into another kingdom. Usually people marry those they love, but...” He shrugs. “I don’t know if you’ll ever have that, friend.”

Donghyun is eleven when he realizes arranged marriages aren’t normal. Donghyun is twelve when he is introduced to Lee Daehwi, a prince from an ally kingdom, and realizes arranged marriages are normal for royalty. (It doesn’t make Donghyun feel any better.)

——

When Donghyun is thirteen, he meets Im Youngmin. The boy is sixteen and the son of a farmer, all white teeth and rugged clothes. He comes to the front gates of the castle, bowing his head, and asks if he can work as a servant to the king and queen. Donghyun and Woojin watch from the other side of the yard as Youngmin is checked by the guards, standing with his arms out while they look for weapons. 

“Do you think they’ll take him?” asks Woojin.

Donghyun shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”

The next day, Donghyun wakes up to Youngmin’s face preparing his clothes. The tall boy is folding clothes and placing them on the top the drawer. When he sees Donghyun getting up, he beams. 

“Good morning, your Highness! I’m Youngmin. I’m a new servant around here, so please take care of me.” He laughs nervously, scratching his neck. “I... should be taking care of you, actually. My mistake. Sorry, your Highness.”

Donghyun cards his hand through his hair and smiles. “It’s all right, really. You can drop the formalities when no one’s around.” 

“Prince Donghyun?” Youngmin tries.

For some reason, Donghyun’s heart flip-flops in his chest. There’s something about the way Youngmin chuckles, gnaws his bottom lip, and holds out his hand when Donghyun falls gracelessly out of bed. There’s something that Donghyun can’t quite explain, frozen in place.

Donghyun doesn’t snap out of it until Woojin bounds into the room, yelling about a family of tadpoles he just found in the pond. He greets Youngmin and invites him to come with. Youngmin, glancing at Donghyun, says warmly, “If Donghyun will let me.”

Donghyun’s heart does that thing again. Maybe he should visit the royal doctor.

——

When Donghyun is fifteen, he realizes he wants to kiss Youngmin. Donghyun wants to kiss Youngmin, but he also wants to hold his hand and talk with him for hours and learn everything about him. Youngmin, the servant boy who’s grown familiar with everyone in the castle, earned himself the nickname  _ Alpaca Prince _ (coined by both Woojin and Donghyun). These are feelings he’s harbored the moment he met Youngmin, only growing fonder as they spend their days together.

It’s when they’ve snuck out after curfew, not even telling Woojin, and are lying together in the garden. Spring is here, the grass damp, the air brisk. Youngmin is telling him stories of the farm, about his childhood, naming the constellations in the sky as Donghyun curls close to his side. 

“In the countryside, everything’s an adventure. Between harvests, we go out to explore. Picking mushrooms, herbs, flowers. Tomatoes are only summer crops, but we have our livestock. Cows, sheep, chickens, goats. The alpacas— Alpaca fur is really soft. When it’s freshly shaven, it’s like touching the clouds.” This is part where he reaches out to interlock his hands with Donghyun, as natural as breathing in air. “You’d love the farm, Donghyun.”

Donghyun laughs. “I’ll always stay here. I have a whole kingdom waiting for me,” he says, but his voice is empty. Youngmin can tell. “I’m getting married in three years, you know.”

Youngmin’s eyes become downcast as he glances at Donghyun. “Yes, I know. Is that what you want?” 

“It’s what I have to do as the prince,” Donghyun proclaims, a smile appearing on his face despite himself. He hides his head, and he can feel Youngmin squeeze his hand. “I’ve never met her before, but she’s probably beautiful. She’s older than me. We must do it to complete our kingdom’s alliance.”

“But, my prince,” implores Youngmin, leaning close, and Donghyun’s heart hammers in his chest, “is that what  _ you _ want?”

No, no it’s not. Donghyun kisses Youngmin under the night sky, without fear or regret, and wishes that life could be easier. 

——

When Donghyun is seventeen, he tells Woojin that he’s running away. They’re waiting in the horse stalls, preparing to head into town to greet the citizens, whispering low so no one else can hear. Woojin’s grip on his horse’s harness tightens.

“When will you leave?”

“Tomorrow night,” Donghyun says, trembling out of anxiousness. “I’m taking a horse. We’re riding out for at least two days.” He’s spoken with Youngmin about it, asked where they can disappear to make themselves unknown, just until the forthcoming chaos of a missing prince dies down.

Woojin nods, face impassive. “Are you going to meet your fiance before you go? She’s to arrive next Sunday.” Donghyun, hesitant, shakes his head. Woojin’s lips quirk into something akin to a smirk. “That’s what I thought.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” Donghyun says.

“I always expected this, somehow. I never thought you belonged to or fit in the kingdom. As long as I can write to you, I’ll be fine wherever you go. Your happiness is what matters most to me.” Woojin breaks into a true smile and bows at his waist, arm over his stomach. “Your Highness.”

Donghyun, without warning, pulls Woojin in for a hug, nuzzling into his shoulder. “I’ll miss you, friend,” he murmurs.

“As will I.” Woojin pats his back, nodding. “I hope Youngmin will take great care of you.” 

A soft sigh escapes past Donghyun’s lips, and then he smiles.

——

When Donghyun is eighteen, he touches an alpaca for the first time. It’s soft.


	12. byun hyunmin/yoo hoeseung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gym buddies au
> 
> 716 wc

**** “Do you even lift, bro?” Hwiseung greets, ruffling Hyunmin’s hair as he heads to the treadmill. 

Hyunmin is, respectively, benchpressing fifty-pound weights, but the gesture is appreciated. The two males have been members of the same gym for over a year, and every time they see one another that’s just what they say. The first time had been a genuine question from Hyunmin, who had only seen Hwiseung work on his lower half. It had just so happened that Hyunmin normally saw Hwiseung when it was leg day. Now, they make idle chit-chat whenever they cross paths, much like students in a shared class.

“I’m lifting right now,” chuckles Hyunmin. His spotter, Eunki, is playing Candy Crush on his phone, which is a solid indication that that’s enough for today. He drops the weights back in place, sitting up rolling his shoulders. “What’ve you been up to, hyung?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.” Hwiseung sits on the edge of the treadmill to readjust his shoes. “I... got the job as a vocal trainer. That happened.”

Hyunmin stands up, eyes wide. “Dude! That’s awesome!” He pulls Hwiseung in for a shoulder bump. “When are you supposed to start? This is, like, your dream job!” 

“Next week I get the tour of the company building. I’ll be working with new trainees to get basics down, like reading sheet music and understanding how to care for your voice.” Hwiseung grins, starting the machine and taking a slow walk. “Man, it still doesn’t feel real.”

“How are you planning on celebrating?” asks Hyunmin, jumping on the treadmill next to Hwiseung’s and leaning on the bar. 

“I don’t know,” says Hwiseung, shrugging. “Go out for dinner, maybe? There’s this fancy place by my apartment that I’ve wanted to try.”

Hyunmin makes a surprised noise. “Oh, cool! Who’re you gonna go with? A hot date?”

Hwiseung grins widely. “No, I wouldn’t. I would embarrass myself, no doubt. I’ll take some friends, maybe.” He glances at Hyunmin, showing a tiny smile. “Do you want to come, too?”

The question puts Hyunmin off guard. He and Hwiseung haven’t really associated outside the gym, so this is a first. In all honesty, they barely know one another. All Hyunmin really knows about Hwiseung is how much he loves to sings and how much he likes to exercise. Hwiseung must know about the same, except instead of singing Hyunmin loves dancing and taekwondo. They still consider each other friends, at least Hyunmin hopes, in the confines of the gym. Outside, however... That’s new territory. 

For some reason, Hyunmin feels lightheaded. He goes to grab his water bottle from the floor to make sure he doesn’t fall over from dehydration. “That— That sounds fun,” he stammers, nearly choking. He moves his hair away from his face and nods, albeit not really knowing  _ why  _ he’s nodding. 

“Is that a yes?” Hwiseung laughs.

Hyunmin hums, cheeks tinged light pink. “Well, do you know when you’ll have the dinner?” 

“Does Friday night work for you?” 

Checking his phone, Hyunmin scrolls through all his events and beams, “I’m free!” He glances at Hwiseung, who’s grinning, and pops a thumbs-up. “I’m all good, bro.” 

“You know,” Hwiseung starts, easing the treadmill to a stop, “I think I’ll need your number, too. So I can text you what time to come and what to wear...”

Hyunmin frowns. “You can’t tell me all that now?” 

Hwiseung knocks back Hyunmin’s forehead with a light tap from his knuckles. “You have that taekwondo tournament to get to,” he chides. “You’ve been raging on about it for a month, and now you forget?” Hyunmin hurriedly checks his phone and gasps.

“Ah! You’re right!” Hyunmin grabs his things and begins to sprint to the locker room, but he skids to a stop as he turns around to look at Hwiseung. 

“Did you forget something?” asks Hwiseung, eyebrow raised. All of a sudden, Hyunmin tosses his phone at him, which he barely manages to catch. 

“Put your number in there! I’ll get it back after I take a quick shower!” Hyunmin runs off, only turning around once to exclaim, “Don’t put your name as something weird!”

(Fingers paused at the keyboard as he ponders, Hwiseung decides that  _ Leg & Vocal King _ is appropriate enough for Hyunmin to recognize him.)


	13. yoo seonho/lee geonhee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> high school au w/ piano players geonhee & seonho
> 
> 777 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not touching this for a while bc i'm ULTRA MEGA SUPER EMO or, well, i need some time to recover myself. recover. who am i
> 
> (please refer to pd101s2 e11 aka the Finale & [my reaction](http://whateverbroski.tumblr.com/post/161902777482/my-reaction-to-the-pd101s2-final) thnx)

“I need you,” Geonhee declares haughtily, leaning on the frame of the door, arms crossed and impatiently tapping his foot on the ground. Several of Seonho’s classmates snort at Geonhee’s pose, which looks less like an intimidating bad boy and more like a sassy preschooler. He has zero shame, this guy.

(Well, Seonho isn’t any better.)

Seonho raises his chin up, flaring his nostrils and ignoring the way Geonhee glares at him. “Hello to you, too, Geonhee hyung.” Guanlin and Dongbin snort. “What brings you here to this lowly first year classroom?”

Geonhee rolls his eyes. “Quit it with the act, Yoo Seonho. We’ve got things to do.” He snaps his fingers. “Chop, chop, buttercup.”

Packing up his books, Seonho purses his lips. “I’m not a buttercup,” he grumbles. Guanlin and Dongbin wave goodbye as he puts on his backpack.

“Good luck,” Dongbin says, patting Seonho’s shoulder. As Seonho leaves the classroom, Guanlin mimics his hand as a plane flying through the air and then crashing into the ground. Dongbin hits him for it.

Seonho walks exactly three steps behind Geonhee at all times. Geonhee skips, swinging his arms back and forth, looking at Seonho over his shoulder every now and then. This arrangement has been in the upperclassman’s interest, so it’s entirely necessary to ensure Seonho hasn’t run away. Not like Seonho _would_ , because he has respect for Geonhee and wants to get free pizza for the summer.

The arrangement is as follows: Geonhee is participating in the district-wide piano competition with Seonho as his partner. Being involved in the competition guarantees bonus points for Ms. Kwon’s band class, and placing means prizes for both the school and the student. Geonhee would’ve done it alone, but Kim Yehyun aka the music theory nerd already took the individual spot for himself. What was left to choose from had been either Yehyun’s page-turner or the duet. Geonhee would never stoop so low to be Yehyun’s page-turner; the job is boring and some quiet kid named Yongguk had already volunteered. So, Geonhee had chosen to be a part of the duet.

That’s where Seonho comes in.

Seonho doesn’t like to brag, but his piano skills are definitely the most impressive thing about him. (He’s also half a head above the average high schooler, which is less talent and more genes, but his height is also notably impressive.) When he was young, his mother had put him in all kinds of extracurricular activities. The first had been taekwondo, but Seonho’s reflexes aren’t that great so that died out pretty quick. The next had been modeling, but Seonho has never liked sitting still or staying quiet for long. Piano, somehow, had been the easiest to adjust to.

In band class, Seonho plays the piano accompaniment for all the woodwind and brass instruments. He’s consistent and can learn sheet music fairly quickly, which is why most of the school know him as the Piano Guy. Geonhee had met him a few times before, so he became the first choice of his for a partner for the competition. Seonho normally wouldn’t trivialize himself with the extra work, but Geonhee promised if they worked together, he would pay for as much pizza as Seonho wants when school’s out.

Thus, Seonho is in the piano competition with Geonhee. Ten minutes before classes end, Geonhee comes to Seonho’s classroom to pick him up every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. They walk together to one of the practice rooms, reserved by Geonhee, to practice for one to three hours, depending on how Seonho is feeling.

Right now, Seonho is feeling pretty hungry. “Geonhee hyung,” he says, and the elder turns. Seonho puts his hand on his stomach. “Feed me.”

Geonhee huffs, “You gotta practice first. I’m not gonna deal with your greasy fingers touching the keyboard again.” Seonho pouts. “Don’t make that face.”

“I’m not making a face,” Seonho mutters, making The Face.

They reach the practice room, Geonhee holding open the door for Seonho, where two keyboards are set up next to one another. Seonho drops his backpack on the ground and falls onto the chair. Geonhee takes out the sheet music for the duet and sets it on the stand. While Seonho turns on the keyboards and warms up with simple scales, he notices Geonhee digging through his backpack and beams.

“You brought snacks, hyung!”

“I brought _incentives_ ,” Geonhee corrects. He holds two bags of potato chips under each arm and then puts them just out of reach. “You can eat after we’ve practiced the song without mistakes.”

Cracking his knuckles, Seonho wriggles his fingers above the white keys with a newfound determination. “Let’s do this.”


	14. kim jaehwan/jung sewoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> auditioners au
> 
> 908 wc

There’s another guy with a guitar at the audition, which is totally not okay because Jaehwan is supposed to be the _only_ guy with a guitar. It gives him character, because he’s always the guy with a guitar. At auditions Jaehwan dresses in retro clothes — denim jacket and patches sewn on his pants — with hair parted in a perfect 7:3 ratio as he holds onto his acoustic guitar. The acoustic guitar, his most prized possession, four years old to date, gifted to him by his nomadic uncle who travels the world with only a backpack and music, the one person who inspired Jaehwan to exchange cram school for singing auditions in his last year of high school.

But this other guy... Did he get his guitar at a pawn shop? There are thin scratches in the wood, the strings differently colored. Hardly a story. And the guy looks so... plain. White button-down, acid-wash jeans. He sort of looks like that fish from _Ponyo_. Ponyo. The guy looks like Ponyo, especially when he smiles. Who smiles when they’re not talking to anyone? Weirdos, that’s who.

The fold-out chairs set out between them are empty, so Jaehwan discreetly jumps over each one until he’s sitting on the chair next to the other guy with a guitar. Jaehwan peeks around to see the front of the other guy’s shirt, where the sticker with his name and audition number are.

Jaehwan is so distracted trying to read it that he accidentally blurts, “Jung Sewoon?” the moment he gets a glimpse of the nametag. Well, shoot.

Said guy jumps and turns to Jaehwan, eyes wide. “Oh! You startled me,” he says, chuckling. “For a second there, I thought it was my turn.” He smiles, and Jaehwan quickly realizes how cute that smile is up close.

Wait a second.

“Kim Jaehwan, you’re... four numbers after me,” Sewoon notes, looking at Jaehwan’s sticker. He moves his guitar around so he can hold out his hand. “Nice to meet you, fellow auditioner.”

Jaehwan shakes his hand, a little embarrassed at all the prejudging he’d just done to this... soft guy. He’s probably harmless. “Likewise.”

Sewoon grins. “I like your guitar. It looks like it has character.”

Laughing, Jaehwan clutches onto his guitar and strums once. This guy can’t be so bad. He has taste, at least. “It was a gift from my uncle,” Jaehwan says. “I can’t audition without it.”

Sewoon’s lips form a small ‘o’ as he nods. “It’s tacky,” he proclaims, blunt. “Like you.”

Shocked, Jaehwan huffs, “Excuse me? Was... Was that an _insult_?” He takes everything back. Other guy with the guitar is a jerk.

“I think it was a very truthful comment,” Sewoon explains, looking at Jaehwan from head-to-toe. Jaehwan resists the urge to cover himself. “You look like you just stepped out of the 90’s. Your hair, your clothes, your face... all outdated. No offense.”

“Just because you say ‘no offense’ doesn’t mean I won’t get offended,” Jaehwan snaps.

Sewoon holds up his hands in surrender. “My bad,” he says, tone light. “Just trying to make conversation.”

Jaehwan narrows his eyes, letting out a disbelieving scoff. “Who do you think you are?”

“Well...” Sewoon glances down and plucks at his shirt. He offers a smile. “Jung Sewoon, number twelve.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Well, it says right—”

“The question was _rhetorical_. Come on!” Jaehwan ruffles his hair in frustration.

Sewoon appears completely unfazed at the outburst as he points to the top of Jaehwan’s head. “Your hair is better like that. Messy.” He laughs. “All you need to do is fix your wardrobe now.”

“Look, I didn’t come here to pick a fight,” Jaehwan says, the tips of his ears burning out of embarrassment. “And— And I didn’t come by for style tips either.”

“What _did_ you come here for?”

Jaehwan takes a long pause. He runs his hand along the neck of his guitar, pursing his lips. After looking around the large room at the other contestants, none of whom have guitars like him or Sewoon but are absorbed reading lyrics or listening to music, he realizes he’s been fooling himself. He shakes his head, a motion to get his act together, and looks back at Sewoon.

“To sing,” he proclaims.

Sewoon laughs, a bright sound that lights up his whole face. “What a small world,” he says, peaceful. “So did I.”

Jaehwan sits back. “I can’t stay mad at you. You’re a little weird, Sewoon, so I can’t figure you out.”

“I’ve been told that a lot,” Sewoon says. He plays a tune on his guitar that vaguely resembles like the _Pokémon_ Theme. “It doesn’t sound so bad, coming from you. You seem just as strange as me.”

A woman enters the room, then, wearing a headset and holding a clipboard. “Number twelve! Jung Sewoon, you’re up next!”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Sewoon says, standing to follow her. Before he gets very far, Jaehwan taps the edge of his guitar to get him to turn.

“Hey,” Jaehwan says. He musses his hair, part ratio be damned. “Good luck.” Sewoon grins and holds out a fist that Jaehwan instinctively bumps.

“Won’t need it.”

——

The next week, the official audition page releases who made it past the first round. Jaehwan sees his name, along with Sewoon’s, and smiles to himself. He looks to his closet and decides to celebrate with a shopping trip. Snapbacks are cool, right?


	15. lee daehwi/kang daniel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: danielxdaehwi (au where daehwi is a twice fanboy & daniel dyes his hair)
> 
> 913 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've. written over 10k. of drabbles??¿¿?¿?? there is?? almost 50 pAgES on my google doc?¿??¿¿?? i'm really sorry that the lengths of each of these are so inconsistent!! this fic is just a lot of ideas and whatever my brain decides to do with them!!! if it wasn't apparent already, i love writing Friendships™ so this is mainly a Trash Can of Friendships™ lmao

Eyes squeezed shut, Daehwi flaps his hands around helplessly, his knees shaking as he sits cross-legged on the toilet seat. “Ow, ow, ow, ow, Daniel hyung, this _hurts_!”

“No shit it hurts,” Daniel huffs, gloved hands adjusting the tin foil in Daehwi’s hair. “Pain is suffering.”

Daehwi cracks open one eye to glare at the elder. “The saying is ‘beauty is pain,’ hyung. If you’re gonna spout inspirational words, do it right.”

Daniel pointedly rolls his eyes. “I know what I said.” He nudges Daehwi’s knee with his foot. “Stop squirming. This stuff’ll get in your eyes and then you’ll go blind.”

“Don’t even joke about that!” Daehwi cries. He stops fidgeting, though, thinking happy thoughts to calm him down. Pork dumplings. Unicorns and fairies. Woojin’s embarrassing home videos. Lee Jongsuk and Kim Woobin. EXID’s new music video. The color pink and ow, ow, ow—

“Daniel hyung! Geez, are you almost done?”

This is Daehwi’s second time bleaching his hair. Well, Daniel is doing it for him, but it still counts — it’s Daehwi’s hair and Daehwi’s bathroom (and Daniel’s hair dye supplies, but that’s a minor detail). Daehwi’s hair had been dyed brunet before, but he wants to try something different this time and go for ash blond. In his friend group, Donghyun is a brunet, Woojin is a redhead, and Youngmin is about to go back to black. Daehwi had debated what color to choose, but it had been unanimous that he shouldn’t go overboard, which meant all neons were overruled.

Daniel is a close family friend and neighbor. He’s a few years older than Daehwi and has more life experience, especially when it comes to DIY hair dyeing. He’s almost gone through the whole rainbow throughout his years, and ever the penny pincher he’d done it himself rather than spending hundreds at a salon. Professional hairdressers are talented, yeah, but Daniel appreciates a positive number in his bank account. Right now, Daniel is sporting a color fit for the spring season: cherry blossom pink, which is growing out and revealing dark brown roots. He looks handsome with any color, but pink makes him look like a peach come to life.

Daehwi imagines Daniel as a talking peach and suppresses a snort. Daniel doesn’t seem to notice as he finishes wrapping Daehwi’s hair. All the strands are pressed in bunches, put together in tin foil so it’s faster to bleach.

“Now you look like an alien,” Daniel remarks, stripping off his gloves and tossing them. “It’s a good look.”

“If I was an alien, then I could be in Twice’s music video. You know the one.” Daehwi makes antennae with his hands and does the little jig in his seat. Daniel doesn’t look amused. “Hyung, please. You gotta do the signal beams with me. I look silly doing it alone.”

Daniel raises an eyebrow. “Are you insinuating I watch girl groups in my free time?”

Daehwi is offended. “Get off your high horse, hyung! Everyone loves Twice!” He does the jig again, provoking, and Daniel sighs.

“Okay, fine.” Daniel copies Daehwi, even humming a bit to the song. Daehwi claps excitedly. “There. Happy?”

“D’aw, hyung, you look so cute! Do it again so I can take a pic!”

“Don’t you dare,” warns Daniel. “I have a reputation to uphold. Word gets out that I listen to Twice, Seongwoo will have a field day.”

Daehwi squeals, “You admitted it! You listen to Twice!” He’s too ecstatic about this revelation to complain about the stinging on his scalp. “What’s your favorite song, hyung? Are you a ‘Like OOH-AHH’ or a ‘Cheer Up’ man? ‘TT’ or ‘Knock Knock’? Momo or Sana? Short-haired Chaeyeon or—”

“They’re on my workout playlist,” Daniel interrupts, flicking Daehwi on the nose to get him to stop talking. “I sort of know the title tracks... I don’t even know all their names, though. I know Momo and Tzuyu, I think.”

“I asked all those questions and you didn’t even grace me with an answer for one. How rude, Daniel hyung.”

“How could I answer when I barely know anything about them?” scoffs Daniel. A glint appears in Daehwi’s eye, which is never a good sign. It reminds Daniel of when Daehwi had decided “Daehwi David Lee, what are you plotting?”

Without so much as an explanation, Daehwi scrambles out of the bathroom and down the hall. Daniel follows him, mildly worried for the kid, and finds him in his bedroom. Daehwi is surrounded by several albums and clutching onto a lightstick in the shape of a lollipop. His laptop is open to a PowerPoint presentation. The presentation is entitled _what u need to know abt TWICE by magumagu_ in comic sans font.

“Daehwi...?”

“We have half an hour to kill before I have to wash out my hair, right?” Daehwi grins. “We can listen to a fifth of Twice’s discography while I teach you about all the members!”

Daniel considers this. Daehwi looks so _ready_ to start talking, poised like he’s about to dive into the lecture of a lifetime, and it’s really quite endearing. Daniel can’t let him down, so he sits next to Daehwi and motions for him to go.

“Your thirty minutes started two minutes ago.”

“Hyung! Not fair!” Daehwi shrieks. Daniel snickers. “Okay, it all started with the competition reality show _Sixteen_ , where JYP sucks and Jeon Somi should’ve made it into the final lineup. I’m not bitter about it. I’m just very, very, _very_ angry.”


	16. takada kenta/lee insoo/hong eunki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> soulmate au where the first thing ur soulmate says to u is on ur skin
> 
> 1543 wc

At a young age, Kenta discovers the frustrations of not being able to understand another language. When he is thirteen, the Words that appear on his wrist look nothing like Japanese. There are squares and circles, paired together in an unexplainable pattern. And there are two lines, too, which makes it twice as hard to comprehend.

Kenta asks his parents what it means, but they don’t know either. His mother is sure it’s an Asian language, but not certain. They spend an entire afternoon searching the internet and find out his Words are in Korean. After translating it into Japanese, Kenta lets out a disbelieving laugh at the Words.

 _The smell of coffee is keeping me alive_ _  
_ _What would you like to drink this lovely morning?_

“Coffee. Morning. Korean,” Kenta says, a little lost and hysteric. “My soulmate is Korean?”

“Not necessarily,” his father says. “It’s just... very likely.”

Kenta sighs. Fate is cruel. “What does that mean for me, then?” he asks his parents, worried. “Do I wait in Japan? Should I go to Korea? Do I visit a coffee shop every morning?”

His mother pats his cheek, smiling softly. “Dear, you have to figure that out on your own. Our Fates are shown to us and can guide us in the right direction, but they don’t tell us what to do.”

“I’ll need to learn another language,” Kenta groans. “And drink _a lot_ more coffee.” His father claps his shoulder encouragingly as his son drops his face in his hands, sighing loudly once more.

——

When Kenta is twenty-three, two years after graduating college with a major in communications, he brings all his belongings to Seoul to start his life there. He hasn’t met the owner of the Words on his wrist yet, but he hopes he will soon. Ever since he found out what his Words mean, a decade ago, he’s felt like he’s been missing a part of himself in a far off country. Although it may not be the case, being in Korea is his best bet for finding his soulmate. At least, that’s what he hopes.

He moves into a small apartment, only a bus ride away from the university he’s going to work at as an adviser for foreign exchange students. There’s a coffee shop on the way, if he walks, which isn’t exactly coincidental but Kenta likes to think it is. He doesn’t bother unpacking his first night in Korea, instead preparing for work the following day.

At the university, Kenta is given the tour by a man named Yoo Hwiseung. He’s the head of the music department, and he knows the entire campus like the back of his hand. As Kenta is shown around his workplace, which is the office inside the reasonably sized building by the front gates, Hwiseung also takes it upon himself to introduce other faculty he’ll be working with.

Yongguk is the head of HR, so Kenta gets well acquainted with him. Woncheol is on payroll, while Jaehwan is an overly excitable accountant. There are others spread throughout the building that Hwiseung says he’ll meet along the way, including the guy who brings margaritas on Fridays (Sungwoo) and another guy who likes lying on the floor during his break (Daehyun). While Kenta gets situated at his cubicle, a man enters through the doors holding a styrofoam cup to his nose like his life depends on it. They meet eyes, Kenta mildly concerned.

“The smell of coffee is keeping me alive,” explains the man, smiling. “This is what gets me through the day.”

Kenta is shocked beyond speech for two reasons: one, that man had just spoken the first line of Kenta’s Words and two, that man had not spoken the second. In fact, the second line was completely different. Kenta stares, mouth agape, confused and scared and astonished and overjoyed. Before he can reply, another voice cuts through and interrupts.

“Insoo, you’ve got mail,” calls Woncheol. “It looks important and fragile. Pick it up before I throw it onto your desk. It might be glass.”

The man — Insoo — looks back at Kenta and grins. “Until next time, newbie!” he exclaims, sipping his coffee and skipping away.

Kenta watches him from faraway, his heart beating erratically in his chest. “Bye,” he says, extremely late, voice practically inaudible. Park Woojin, the part-time student secretary at the reception, snickers at him.

Did Kenta just meet one of his soulmates?

——

Somehow, Kenta resists the urge to ditch all his work to confront Insoo. It takes a whole lot of willpower, but he makes it through the day. He talks animatedly on the phone with foreign exchange students needing guidance, being positive and friendly. The workday ends without him seeing the aforementioned Korean male, and Kenta leaves the office without saying another word to him. Call it cowardly, but he doesn’t think he’s ready.

Although he’s waited so long to meet the owner of his Words, Kenta has never imagined that... Well, that there may be _two_ owners. That complicates things. Kenta had been preparing almost all his life for one Korean soulmate, not _two_ . He’d always associated the two phrases on his wrist with one person! Sure, it’s abnormal and rare, but Kenta doesn’t mind. The problem he has is how he’s going to find his _other_ soulmate. And when he does, does that mean Kenta’s _other_ soulmate is Insoo’s soulmate, too? If not, would they share Insoo?

It’s a big mess, this is.

Kenta takes a night to sleep on it. The next day, he wakes up early to check out the coffee shop by his place. He wears a light jacket, a skip in his step as he anticipates a green tea frappucino. When he opens the door to the shop, Kenta is hit with a wall of warm air and the heady fragrance of coffee beans.

As he looks around, as far as he can tell, the shop is relatively empty. The cashier at the front wears maroon apron, complementing his light hair, and hums to himself. _Eunki_ , says the nameplate pinned on the apron strap. Kenta walks closer and realizes there’s someone coming behind the cashier, hand reaching for Eunki’s and startling him.

It’s... Insoo? The two are laughing together, the sound full and bright. Kenta stands in front of them and clears his throat, awkward.

Eunki and Insoo break apart, both of their cheeks pink, as Eunki smiles at Kenta. It’s a welcoming smile, and Kenta feels himself blush at being on the receiving end of it. A flicker of recognition flashes across Insoo’s face as Eunki directs his greeting at Kenta.

“What would you like to drink this lovely morning?”

Oh.

_Oh._

“Oh my stars,” mutters Kenta, and he may’ve just said that in Japanese, but the two males on the other side of the counter widen their eyes like they understand him perfectly.

Insoo literally jumps over the counter to grab Kenta by the shoulders, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re him! You’re—” He laughs and looks to Eunki, then back at Kenta. “I talked to you first! I didn’t introduce myself, but I’m Lee Insoo. We work together! I can’t believe this!”

“I’m Kenta. Takada Kenta.” Kenta takes both of Insoo’s hands off his shoulders so he can hold them in his own hands. He glances at Eunki. “Can you speak Japanese?”

Eunki nods, grin wide, as he walks around to stand near Insoo. “We tried our hardest to learn over the years. We’re conversational, at best. Our Words...” He pulls back his sleeve to reveal two lines of words printed on his wrist, one Korean and the other Japanese.

 _You dance like a swan_ _  
_ _Oh my stars_

Insoo does the same.

 _I can’t believe you said that_ _  
_ _Oh my stars_

Kenta lets out a laugh, overwhelmed. “You knew you’d both have me,” he says softly. Eunki and Insoo engulf him in a hug.

“We finally got to meet you,” Insoo sighs against Kenta’s hair. “It must’ve been so hard for you.”

“You must’ve waited so long,” Eunki says, sniffling. “Insoo and I met in high school. We wanted to meet you, too, so badly.” He brings his head up and groans, reluctantly untangling himself from the hug. “Oh, geez, a customer is here.”

Insoo squeezes Kenta. “I can handle this,” he says dreamily. Kenta laughs as Eunki goes to take the customer’s order, pouting.

“I need coffee, too,” Kenta admits, after the customer gets their order taken. “Green tea frappucino, please.”

Eunki beams, “Of course! It’ll be my treat. Wait a moment, okay?”

After one of Eunki’s coworkers comes to take over the cash register Eunki, Insoo, and Kenta have a long and meaningful chat over coffee. They exchange phone numbers between countless stories they’ve missed over the years, knowing they have their whole lives to catch up on them. Insoo and Eunki have believed that they’ve never been complete, and now... Now, it’s okay. Kenta almost forgets he has to get to work until Insoo reminds him, and then they have to bid Eunki goodbye. With plans to visit Eunki at his dance studio after work, Insoo and Kenta walk to the office together, hand in hand, and Kenta feels whole.


	17. lee daehwi/kang dongho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> university au w/ bnm boys as flatmates & daehwi’s Tale of Woe
> 
> 955 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [yoo hwiseung of n.flying(!!!!!) effectively slayed me with this acoustic version of pick me](https://youtu.be/9VsU_xmLY40) and i lowkey posted this drabble to advertise MY GUY MY DUDE MY LOVE

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—”

“You really don’t expect us to know what you’re screaming about,” Donghyun says, cocking an eyebrow. Woojin doesn’t even bother responding to Daehwi, settling for raising the volume on the TV and then plugging his ears with his fingers.

After throwing his backpack aside, Daehwi tackles Youngmin, unfortunately the closest to the door and seated on the battered beanbag chair, and cries, “I ALMOST _DIED_.”

“Context,” gasps Youngmin. He rearranges Daehwi so he’s not being choked, letting the younger boy pillow his head on his chest. “We’ll hear you out. Tell us what’s wrong, Dae.”

“It all started—”

Donghyun interjects, “If you quote _Spongebob_ and say ‘when I was born’ in your Squidward voice, I’m suing you.”

Daehwi goes silent. After a few seconds, he says quietly, “There was this dog.”

“Tell us about the dog,” Youngmin says, stroking Daehwi’s hair. Somehow, after all these years of taking care of his friends, he’s become the one to offer the best comfort. He supposes it’s his rational mind.

“I wanted to come back from the library,” Daehwi starts, sniffling, “and I was tired. I couldn’t even ride the bus back because I left my pass in my other shorts. My wallet has exactly four cents in it, so I couldn’t call a cab either. I had to _walk_. My own two feet, walking. I was suffering.”

“Tragic,” comments Woojin, having stopped ignoring Daehwi in favor of eating a bag of Cheetos. The volume of the TV, which is playing a highly rated KBS drama, is now on mute. “Keep going. It’s not even interesting yet.”

Daehwi continues, “As I was walking, my back started to hurt because of all the books. Books suck. Books are heavy. Books are expensive, even when you’re renting for just a semester, not even _using_ the darn thing except as a coaster—”

“You’re getting off track,” Donghyun interjects. “This was supposed to be about a dog!”

“I’m _getting there_ ,” huffs Daehwi. “The books are heavy, so I took off my backpack and sat on the curb. To take a break. It wasn’t on a busy road, but near the park. You know the one.”

“That park where Youngmin passed out in the coin fountain, tried to catch pigeons, and made out with the Donghyun?” asks Woojin. “In that order. Important detail.” Daehwi nods.

“We don’t talk about that,” Youngmin and Donghyun say simultaneously, meeting eyes for a split second before looking away.

“Ever,” Donghyun mutters.

“ _Anyway_ ,” coughs Daehwi. “I was sitting in the park. It’s a nice day out, so people were strolling and relaxing and all that jazz. While I was sitting, I was enjoying the view. The trees are blossoming, flowers are blooming, and then! All of a sudden, there was this _dog_.

“She was a beautiful labrador retriever, a _baby_ , no bigger than my hands. She was small, and she jumped straight into my lap. If my back wasn’t so tired, I would’ve picked her up and carried her home. She was that cute, believe me.

“While I was playing with her, I didn’t even think to look at her collar. I knew she wasn’t a stray, but I forgot to check! Before I knew it—” Daehwi breaks off his sentence to cry in Youngmin’s shirt.

“So what happened?” asks Woojin, at the edge of his seat with a handful of Cheetos in his mouth. “You can’t just stop right at the climax. That’s bad cinematography.”

Daehwi brings up his head, expression defeated, and moans, “ _Kang Dongho_ happened.” He’s met with silence. Not stunned silence, but confused silence. “Wait, does no one know who that is?”

“I need a face,” Woojin says. Donghyun and Youngmin nod in unison.

“I don’t— That’s not—” Daehwi takes a deep breath. “He’s my psychology professor. Well, assistant professor. Is that a thing? I don’t know, graduate student? TA? I _don’t know_! I’ve never seen him outside class before, but he grades all my papers and has given me no higher than a _C_ all semester!”

“What does this guy, the dog, and you almost dying all have in common?” Youngmin asks. Daehwi looks up at him and cries. “This isn’t rhetorical, Dae. I am thoroughly confused. What is the linkage?”

“The beautiful puppy is _Kang Dongho’s_ beautiful puppy,” Daehwi says, distraught.

“I’m still not following,” sighs Donghyun.

“While I was playing with the puppy, Kang Dongho came up to me. _He_ came up to _me_. My life flashed before my eyes. The puppy barked — oh, her bark was the cutest! — and ran towards him right away. Kang Dongho thanked me, and when he looked at me—” Daehwi dramatically falls against Youngmin’s chest, a troubled exhale leaving his lips. “He _recognized_ me.”

“And... that’s bad?” Youngmin asks. Daehwi nods frantically.

“More than bad! I was lucky getting out of there alive!” Daehwi squeezes Youngmin, shuddering. “I seriously think he’s out to get me. The beautiful puppy was a trap. Kang Dongho wants to fail me. He’s lurking.”

Woojin groans loudly as he throws his last Cheeto at Daehwi, who screeches and runs behind the couch for cover. Youngmin, honestly, is glad he’s finally gotten off him. Donghyun passes him a bottle of Coke, which is greatly appreciated.

“This story sucked,” Woojin says. “Daehwi is being overly paranoid.”

Daehwi spends the next ten minutes ranting about Kang Dongho and how he is _not_ paranoid. Youngmin listens, Donghyun pretends to, and Woojin goes to the kitchen to grab another bag of Cheetos. Woojin also searches _Kang Dongho_ on Facebook and finds that the man only four years older than himself likes labradors, Nell, rainbow rice cakes, and writing music.

“Hey, he’s hot,” declares Woojin.

Daehwi shrieks, “OH MY GOD, DON’T SAY THAT.”


	18. kim dongbin/lai guanlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> high school au w/ dongbin as a fanboy & guanlin as his tutor
> 
> 1062 wc

“Why am I getting tutored by the transfer student? This feels like a sham.” Dongbin falls back on his bed, kicking out his legs. “Youngmin hyung, why can’t you teach me?”

“Because,” Youngmin starts, rifling through Dongbin’s closet, “I don’t want to.” Dongbin gasps. “Also, I don’t remember anything from high school biology.”

“You’re a biology major!”

“Irrelevant,” retorts Youngmin. He plucks a gray oversized _OBEY_ sweater from the closet, scrutinizing it. “You stole this from me.”

Dongbin sits up, pouting. “I borrowed it,” he insists. Youngmin stares. Squints. Judges. “Okay, fine! I took it from your room for an extended period of time and never gave it back. God, don’t _look_ at me like that!”

Youngmin snorts as he lays the sweater over his arm and leans against the wall. “When’s your tutor coming over?”

Dongbin checks his phone. “Four.” At that moment, the doorbell rings and Dongbin proceeds to throw his phone onto the floor and jump to his feet. “That’s him. It has to be! Oh, I’m so not ready.” As Dongbin scrambles to make his room look presentable, Youngmin rolls his eyes.

“Fashionably on time. What a loser.”

Immediately, Dongbin retorts, “Guanlin isn’t a—” He stops short when Youngmin raises an eyebrow knowingly. “You know what? Get out of my room. You’re the worst.”

“Don’t cry in front of him,” Youngmin says, strolling out the door. “It’s not attractive.”

Dongbin throws his Rilakkuma plushie at him, but Youngmin dodges easily. “I hate you!” He hurries to the front door, patting down his hair, and opens it.

Guanlin is standing there, tall and handsome, scrolling through his phone. He’s wearing that hoodie-jacket combo, his backpack slung over one shoulder, hair gelled off his forehead. He and Guanlin are the same age, but it looks like Guanlin got the better end of puberty. He had transferred to Dongbin’s school last month, but he’s certainly made a name for himself as the sweet freshman from Taiwan who’s a head taller than the passing period crowd.

“I was about to text you,” he says, voice impossibly deep, pointing to his phone.

“Yeah, sorry,” Dongbin says, sheepish. “Welcome.” He lets the door open wider and Guanlin steps inside, toeing off his shoes. “We’re gonna be in my room. Down the hall.”

Dongbin shuffles his feet as he leads them to his bedroom. When they enter, it’s clear Guanlin is marveling at... everything. Dongbin is a big fan of k-pop, so his walls are lined with posters and banners. He has two shelves above his desk full of albums, from singles to repackages, and some lightsticks here and there. Dongbin’s bed is half covered in stuffed animals and pillows, only a small section with space free. Guanlin whistles lowly, putting down his backpack as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“You sure like your boy bands,” he comments, eyes stuck on the row of NCT posters. Next to them are MAMAMOO and Red Velvet. “And girl bands.”

Scratching his neck, Dongbin pulls out the desk chair and nods. “I’m a big fan,” he confesses, cheeks pink. He takes out his notebook and calculator. “So, geometry. Where do we start?”

Guanlin mimics him, procuring his school supplies and textbook from his backpack. “What don’t you understand?”

“Uh.” Dongbin purses his lips. “Everything?”

“That means we’ll start at the very beginning.” Guanlin cracks open his textbook to page one and Dongbin slumps in defeat.

Guanlin is a good tutor. He answers Dongbin’s questions and shows extra examples for Dongbin to understand concepts better. They finish the homework Dongbin is behind on, Guanlin working on his own homework, too. Even though he’d entered school later, Guanlin is more caught up on the lecture material than Dongbin is. It’s sort of embarrassing, but Guanlin doesn’t hold it against him or anything. Guanlin is really nice, and really smart, and really cool...

“Is there something on my face?” Guanlin asks.

Dongbin blinks. “What?”

“You’ve been staring at me.”

“O-Oh,” Dongbin stammers. He hurriedly stands up and jerks his thumb to the door. “D-Do you want something to drink? I’m gonna go to the kitchen. We have water, juice, soda...”

“I’ll take a water,” Guanlin responds.

Dongbin hurries to the kitchen, where Youngmin is sitting at the table and making himself a sandwich. Youngmin is having a plain ham and cheese, rubbing mayo on the bread as he stares Dongbin down. Dongbin grabs himself an apple juice and Guanlin’s water, shutting the fridge and turning to his brother.

“What are you doing?”

“Observing,” Youngmin says. He takes a bite out of his sandwich. He stares. “You’ve got a crush on him, don’t you?”

Dongbin feels a rush of blood go to his cheeks. “Can you— Hyung, can you not?” Youngmin waggles his eyebrows, chewing loudly. “You suck. I hope you choke on that.”

Dongbin goes back to his room and sees Guanlin walking around, staring at Dongbin’s album shelves. Dongbin sets the drinks on his desk, and Guanlin looks up at the noise. In Guanlin’s hands is Pentagon’s _Five Senses_ album.

“Hi,” Dongbin says.

Guanlin smiles. “I wasn’t snooping,” he asserts, putting the album back.

“It’s— No, it’s cool.” Dongbin sits on his bed and gestures to his shelf. “I really like Pentagon. They have good music and choreographies. I went to their concert over the summer.”

Taking the spot next to him, Guanlin breaks into a wide grin. “My favorite member is Wooseok.”

Dongbin’s eyes widen. “Y-You like Pentagon, too?”

“I’m a Cube fan,” admits Guanlin. He picks up his textbook and taps the page. “Speaking of cubes...”

Dongbin’s face falls. “You made me happy for, like, ten seconds. And now it’s over. Because you related the thing I love — k-pop — to _math_.”

Guanlin shrugs, laughing. “Worth a shot.” He stands back up and picks out all the Pentagon albums. “We’re onto surface area and volume. Let’s have these play in the background to fit the atmosphere.”

By the time they get to the _Ceremony_ album, Guanlin is finished tutoring Dongbin and they’re debating over which was the best Pentagon era. Dongbin has his money on _Five Senses_ , but Guanlin is head-over-heels for _Pentagon_ , the iconic debut. They do agree, however, that “Tentastic!” is a ridiculous greeting.

(“It’s a pun,” Guanlin says, face twisted, “but at what cost?” Dongbin bursts into a fit of giggles.)


	19. hwang minhyun/kim jonghyun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: 2hyun (adoption au where 2hyun are married & are about to adopt their 16 y/o son)
> 
> 1316 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you haven't noticed, i've kinda/sorta been taking requests... but i don't think i'll do any more!!! i don't wanna disappoint anyone since i write so infrequently ^^; plus, the idea machine (read: my brain) isn't that great at coming up with more ideas lmao
> 
> that doesn't mean i'm gonna stop writing these drabbles!! i have a few more in progress that i work on in my free time :-) also, since wanna one is releasing content i've become very proud & emotional so, if u ever wanna rant or cry, my askbox is always open on tumblr :D i keep all my reactions in my "pd101" tag lol

“I’m not ready to be a dad,” Minhyun says, wringing his hands and pacing in front of Jonghyun, who’s seated at the table.

“No one really is. It’s something you’ll learn along the way,” Jonghyun says, the epitome of calm.

“That sounds terrible,” whines Minhyun. “This was a mistake. I’m going to mess this up. Oh, Seonho will hate me. He’s in the middle of puberty, so he’ll hate me _forever_.”

“He won’t. He loves you,” Jonghyun assures. “You know that, babe.”

Minhyun narrows his eyes. “Do I really?”

“We’ve been with him for almost a year,” Jonghyun says.“You adore him. He adores you.” Minhyun sits down in his chair, putting his head in his hands, and Jonghyun rubs his shoulder consolingly.

After being married for four years, Minhyun had voiced the idea of adopting a child. It had been on the night of their anniversary, and when Minhyun had put away the dishes and had gone to join Jonghyun in bed he asked, “What do you think about having a son?” He’d been careful, eyes bright, but hopeful. He’d been thinking about it for a long time, but he hadn’t known when to say something about it.

Jonghyun had raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Well,” he had started slowly, taking Minhyun’s hand in his. Minhyun squeezed onto his hand in anticipation. “I think that’d be fantastic.”

The initial adoption process had been difficult for many reasons. Finding a child to bring into their family wasn’t the same as getting a pet dog, fish, or cat. Minhyun only had known he wanted to raise a son, but there aren’t criteria that the child must fill to be _the one_. That’s not how parenting works. Jonghyun and Minhyun had been keenly aware that the child they would try to adopt would love them as much as they loved him. It shouldn’t matter what the boy looks or acts like, who he is or wants to become, but how compatible the family is.

Jonghyun and Minhyun had found an orphanage in a nearby town, where all the boys were housed for potential adoption. The caretakers there had told them they should meet some of the boys in the house before coming to any conclusions. Most of the them had been young children, no older than ten. The older bunch had edged on mid-teens. While Minhyun had felt confident in finding the son within the house, Jonghyun had had some doubts.

Minhyun had tried interacting with the young boys, but they brushed him off and found no interest in him. He couldn’t help but feel offended, but Jonghyun had assured him that children are just naturally rowdy at that age. When they had spent several hours there with no children wanting to speak to them, Jonghyun had urged them to leave and come back another day. Minhyun, adamant, had wanted one more hour. Jonghyun had sighed, joined him on the front porch, and watched oblivious orphans play in the yard.

In the following ten minutes, Jonghyun and Minhyun would meet Seonho for the first time.

The bus had arrived back from the high school, and several boys hopped off the steps and into the house. As they walked past Jonghyun and Minhyun, Minhyun had scanned their nametags as they bowed and briefly greeted him.

Huang Justin.

Kim Samuel.

Lee Euiwoong.

Kim Dongbin.

Lee Woojin.

“Hello, good sirs! What’re you doing here?”

Jonghyun had looked up and met eyes with a wry smile, a skinny boy who couldn’t have been any older than fifteen. “We’re sitting,” he had said simply, and Minhyun took the moment to read the nametag.

Yoo Seonho.

“Oh,” Seonho had said, blinking. “Okay!”

The rest of the boys had filed inside without another word. When they had all past, Jonghyun and Minhyun had met gazes. They hadn’t said anything, but they felt... something. What had it been?

No more than five minutes later Seonho had returned back to the front porch, a stack of books in his arms. He had sat — forcibly squeezed — in the space between Jonghyun and Minhyun, pleasant smile set on his face as he asked, “Can you help me with my homework? I’m Seonho. I’m still growing. Modern history is hard.”

And that had become a regular fixture in the lives of Jonghyun and Minhyun. They had visited the orphanage every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, talking with the caretakers and the boys who would let them. While the younger boys had learned to tolerate the presence of the older men, the teenagers had grown fond of them. Seonho, especially, had taken a liking to them, finding the time to ask for help on his schoolwork or just to talk about favorite restaurants in the area. He’s clingy, wanting attention and hugs often, but it’s endearing.

Jonghyun had become less and less restless as the visits continued, not only because of his growing familiarity with boys but also due to Minhyun exhibiting the opposite. Minhyun had shown signs of worry and anxiousness, and after they’d been visiting the orphanage for over a month Jonghyun had begged him to say what was on my mind.

“Jonghyun, I—” Minhyun had rested his forehead on Jonghyun’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around Jonghyun’s sides. He had let out a laugh, slightly fearful. “I want to adopt Seonho.”

That had been the start of everything working up to this very moment. Months have passed. Seonho is almost at Jonghyun’s height now. Paperwork has been filed, tears have been shed, and all they’re waiting for is for Seonho to come downstairs with his suitcase and teddy bear.

More accurately, Jonghyun is waiting and Minhyun is trying his hardest not to pass out. Jonghyun soothes Minhyun, holding his hand, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles as he presses chaste kisses over the skin. When Seonho appears before them, suitcase with his teddy bear tied onto it in tow, they jump to their feet.

Minhyun shows a watery smile. “How’ve you been, buddy?” Seonho engulfs him in a tight hug before answering.

“Really good!” Seonho grins brightly. “Woojin and Justin tried baking me a goodbye cake last night. It was utterly _disgusting_.” He shudders. “Half raw, half burnt? Yikes! But the frosting was nice! It was vanilla.”

Jonghyun chuckles while Minhyun offers another weak smile. Seonho steps back and straightens his jacket.

“Are you ready to go?” Jonghyun asks, taking the handle of Seonho’s suitcase.

Seonho shakes his head. “Nope.”

Minhyun makes a pained noise and murmurs under his breath, “He hates me.”

“No, that’s not it!” Seonho exclaims, immediately flocking to Minhyun’s arm. “Before we leave, I have something important to ask.”

Jonghyun waves a hand. “Go ahead, before Minhyun faints.” Minhyun glares at him.

Seonho inhales deeply. “What do I call you two?” he says in one swift breath. “Because if I call ‘Dad,’ both of you’ll turn. Should I say... Father? Dad-One and Dad-Two? Papa and Pops? Mr. Dad?”

“Mr. Dad,” Jonghyun echoes, bemused.

Slumping his shoulders, Seonho says petulantly, “Well, that was my _last_ choice, but if that’s what you want—”

“Don’t call either of us that,” Minhyun interjects, shaking some sense into himself. “I’m overruling it. Don’t.” Seonho beams, failing at keeping his emotions contained.

“J-Dad, for me,” Jonghyun suggests suddenly. “How’s that?” Seonho marvels at the title, nodding excitedly.

“You’re such a dork,” Minhyun says. “That would make me... M-Dad.”

Jonghyun shrugs. “Why not?”

“I like it!” Seonho cheers, hugging Minhyun and putting his chin on the elder’s shoulder. “J-Dad. M-Dad. Sounds like superheroes.” He leans close to Minhyun, humming. “M-Dad, can we go home now?”

Minhyun feels a hitch in his breath and a stuttering in his heartbeat. He looks at Jonghyun, who takes his hand, and at Seonho, who hasn’t stopped smiling since he came into the room. He nods, willing back a fresh wave of tears.

“Yes, let’s go home.”


	20. kim taemin/park woojin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hospital au where taemin has enterostenosis & woojin has shingles
> 
> 690 wc

“If I started an uprising in the cafeteria, would they have to serve better food to me?” asks Taemin, way too seriously as his IV drip gets changed. Sungwoo, his nurse for the day, regrettably shakes his head. “Well, that’s extremely disappointing.”

“I don’t know why you confide in me for your chaotic plans,” Sungwoo says.

“Hyung, my last roommate _died_. I have no one else to talk to except my family. And they hate hearing me talk about chaos!” Taemin frowns deeply. “They like _order_ , hyung. Have you ever heard of color coding your plates? It’s practically fascism.”

“No, don’t compare your family to fascists because of organizational preferences.” Sungwoo takes another second and inhales sharply. “Also, Taemin, how many times do we have to tell you that Kang Daniel recovered from his fractured wrist in record time and got discharged early? He did not _die_.”

Taemin hums sarcastically, “ _Sure_ he didn’t.” He thins his lips. “Just like how the cafeteria ladies aren’t trying to kill me with bland bean sprouts and meat.”

Sungwoo sighs. “I’ll put a word in with the kitchen staff for your next meal.”

“Pudding,” grunts Taemin. “The dying man requests pudding.”

“Please, Taemin, you’re not—”

“Knock, knock!” chirps a happy voice. It belongs to Jisung, another nurse in the hospital, smile wide as he pokes his head in the door. Sungwoo waves. “You have a new roommate, Taemin! His name is Park Woojin, and he’s a sweetheart!”

Jisung pushes Woojin into the center of the room, patting him on the back as he walks. Woojin looks shorter than Taemin, wearing a black graphic tee with ripped jeans. He has on one of those medical eyepatches and he idly runs his tongue over his snaggletooth in the corner of his mouth. He bows and says, “Hi.”

“Whaddup, dude,” Taemin greets, smiling. He sits cross-legged on the bed and waves with the arm not stuck with a needle. “I have enterostenosis. My intestines are wack. What are you here for?”

There’s a long pause before Woojin shrugs. “Pringles,” he tries.

“Shingles,” Jisung corrects gently.

“Shingles,” Woojin amends. “Super serious stuff.”

Taemin makes a face. “Isn’t that contagious?”

“Super contagious,” Woojin says. Jisung elbows him.

“Why are we in the same room, then?” Taemin grimaces, swatting his hand in Woojin’s direction. “Begone, demon boy. Away with you.”

Sungwoo, having finished changing the IV drip, stands back and lightly bops Taemin on the head. “Taemin, don’t be rude. The hospital has taken all precautions. Right, Jisung?”

Jisung nods, rubbing Woojin’s shoulder. “Woojin is out of the infectious stage of his condition. He’s on medicine, too. No skin to skin contact, is all. Just in case. You’re still vulnerable after your surgery, Taemin.”

Woojin nods as he places his backpack on the bed across from Taemin’s. “We gotta set boundaries. You stay in your bed, and I stay in mine. ”

“No touch club. I got it.” Taemin’s grimace lessens, but he still regards Woojin with caution. “I’ll put down tape, if I have to.”

Sungwoo sighs. “Taemin is normally like this,” he tells Woojin. “Don’t worry it too much.”

“I’m in the room, too, hyung. I haven’t gone deaf,” huffs Taemin. “God has given me mercy.”

“Again, Taemin is normally like this.”

“We’ll leave you two to get to know each other,” Jisung says. He ushers Sungwoo out of the room and shuts the door behind them.

Woojin sits down on the bed. He has to get changed into a gown soon, but he settles on his back and closes his eyes. He’s tired, so a nap sounds nice. It’s quiet in the hospital.

The quiet does not last very long.

Taemin leans over onto his side, face stoic. “Are you willing to overthrow the structural hierarchy of the hospital with me? I have plan I’m writing on a collection of napkins.”

Woojin stares at him, expression an even mix between amusement and confusion. “That depends,” he says slowly. “Will it result in unlimited HD channels?”

Taemin’s lips quirk. This guy is gonna make good roommate. Taemin hopes he won’t die like Daniel. Rest in peace, man. Always missed.


	21. jung sewoon/kim donghyun/im youngmin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FB message university au
> 
> 630 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy 400 kudos, i want this fic to be my legacy

**Kim Donghyun created a group with Im Youngmin, Jung Sewoon**

**Donghyun named the group** **_boyfriends!_ **

_11:56 p.m._

**Youngmin** ****  
I’m literally in the same room as you  
**Donghyun** ****  
sewoon isn’t!!!!!  
**Youngmin** ****  
He’s not even responding  
**Donghyun** ****  
he’s... probably sleeping!!!!  
**Youngmin**  
Do you even know Sewoon? He doesn’t believe in sleep  
And he has a test in the morning, so he’s probably cramming or slacking  
**Donghyun**  
then he’ll see this in the morning!!!!!

**Jung Sewoon set the nickname for Kim Donghyun to ding-dong.**

**Youngmin** ****  
Oh, there he is  
**ding-dong**  
or he’ll see this now!!!!!  
hi sewoon!!!!

**Jung Sewoon set the nickname for Im Youngmin to Alpaca.**

**Alpaca** ****  
Are you serious  
**ding-dong**  
what else were you expecting from him lol  
**Sewoon** ****  
i capitalized it for you ❤️  
**Alpaca**  
Wow thanks

**Alpaca set the nickname for Jung Sewoon to ponyo.**

**Alpaca**  
Now we’re even  
**ponyo**  
i dont mind it  
**ding-dong** ****  
CUTE!!!!!!!!  
anyway how’s studying going sewoon??  
**ponyo**  
me? studying? whos spreading these blasphemous rumors  
was it daehwi  
**Alpaca** ****  
Oh boy ****  
Are you with Jaehwan? Are you watching movies?  
You better not be  
If I see some weird recommendations on my Netflix again......  
**ding-dong**  
sewoon wouldn’t be watching movies with jaehwan hyung!!!  
he’d invite us too!!!!  
it’s “ netflix  & chill ” not “ netflix & abandon ur boyfriends ”  
right sewoon??  
??????  
?????  
????????  
????

_12:33 a.m._

**ding-dong** ****  
!??!?!??!?!?!?!?!!  
!!!!??!  
!??!??!?!  
!!!!!??!  
!!! >?!?>>!?!!<!>!  
!!!?!!  
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
??  
**Alpaca** ****  
I thought you went to sleep already  
Calm down, please  
My phone is about to have a stroke with all the notifs  
**ding-dong**  
SEWOON MIGHT BE NETFLIXING  & CHILLING WITH A CHURCH BOY WHO’S NOT ME  
HOW CAN I BE CALM  
**Alpaca** ****  
[prayer emoji]  
**ding-dong** ****  
DONT’ MOCK ME  
I DON’T APPRECIATE  
**ponyo**  
“netflixing  & chilling”  
**ding-dong**  
!!!!  
hey!!!!  
sewoon!!! why haven’t u responded!!!!!  
**ponyo**  
i went to make some ramen  
i was looking for the Eggs  
we dont have Eggs  
**Alpaca** ****  
Oh  
**ding-dong**  
oh  
**ponyo**  
yap  
im watching law of the jungle  
theyre eating bugs  
and im eating convenience store instant noodles  
life is Good™  
**Alpaca**  
You’re a Mess™  
**ponyo**  
um  
WOW  
**ding-dong**  
dont!! be!!! r00d!!!!!! youngmin hyung!!!!!  
**Alpaca** ****  
¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
**ding-dong**  
soooo  
is jaehwan hyung there sewoon  
**Alpaca** ****  
Lmao  
**ponyo** ****  
oh!  
**ding-dong**  
.......oh?  
is that a yes-oh or no-oh  
**ponyo**  
nah jaehwan isn’t here  
**ding-dong**  
OH  
cool  
oh okay cool  
**Alpaca**  
Lmao  
**ponyo**  
haha  
jaehwan is staying at minhyun hyungs place  
last i talked to him he said  
;)  
**ding-dong**  
gross!  
jaehwan hyung whyyyyyy  
**ponyo**  
and it was a verbal conversation too.......  
**Alpaca**  
So he said “winky face”...?  
**ponyo** ****  
no he said “semicolon left open faced parenthesis”  
and then he winked right after  
**ding-dong**  
jaehwan hyung WHYYYYYYYY  
**Alpaca** ****  
:/  
**ponyo**  
yea..........  
im almost done eating so im gonna sleep soon  
gotta energize up 4 my death in the morning  
ya feel  
**Alpaca** ****  
I feel  
**ding-dong** ****  
okay!  
g’night sweet dreams ❤️  
**Alpaca**  
Good luck on your test!  
**ponyo** **  
** ❤️❤️❤️

_10:02 a.m._

**ponyo** ****  
hey so i think i aced it  
the test  
!!  
:D  
**ding-dong** ****  
:O  
great job sewoon!!!!  
i’m proud!!!  
**Alpaca** ****  
I’m gonna buy chicken & beer  
Mini celebration at your place?  
**ponyo**  
YES NICE  
come over at 5  
jaehwan hyung is bringing minhyun hyung over  
and then gwanghyun is bringing cookies  
hyunbin has new blankets too  
**Alpaca** ****  
Is the order of importance  
cookies  > blankets > Minhyun?  
**ding-dong**  
youngmin!!!!  >:(  
**ponyo**  
blankets  > cookies > minhyun  
**ding-dong** **  
** sewoon!!!! >:(

_4:32 p.m._

**ding-dong**  
we’re almost there!  
five more minutes!!  
**ponyo**  
kk  
gwanghyun is gonna open the door  
im too cozy now to get up  
so warm  
so cozy ****  
**Alpaca** ****  
You’re banned from using that word.  
**ponyo** ****  
oooo a period ****  
what word? i use a lot of words  
**ding-dong** ****  
cozy?  
you say it a lot  
every time you text it youngmin turns into a tomato  
**Alpaca** ****  
^  
Wait not that last part  
**ponyo** **  
** :3c

**ding-dong set the nickname for ponyo to cozy.**

**Alpaca** ****  
I hate you both.  
**cozy**  
>:3c


	22. yoon jisung/kwon hyunbin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> coffee shop au
> 
> 822 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was rewatching ep7 of pd101s2 and then i realized how much i liked hyunbin and got Sad, and then i remembered i finished writing this and got Less Sad

Jisung is the manager of _MMO_ , a small café downtown, where people come for the coffee and stay for the company. All his employees are like his children: Daniel, Jaehan, Jinwoo, and Taewoong. Although they’re not much younger than him, he believes he represents a paternal role model who gives them all the love and encouragement they need to succeed in their endeavors. Every time they clock in, Jisung greets them with a hug and a cheery, “You’ll do great today!” While it may sound cheesy, it’s wholly appreciated.

On a typical work day, Jisung comes in an hour before the café opens to make sure everything is operating smoothly. He bundles himself up in a wool scarf and mittens, taking his car to the café with the heat blasting. When he gets out, he makes sure to grab his keys to unlock the front door. While he searching for the right key of dozens on his key ring, he sees a tall, grinning figure approaching.

“Hyunbinnie!” Jisung calls, surprised.

The model skips towards the door, hands in his jean pockets, wrapped in a downy coat. “G’morning, hyung,” greets Hyunbin. He looks around, blinking. “Where’s everyone?”

Jisung gets the door unlocked and scoffs, “You came early!”

Hyunbin’s eyes widen. “I did?” He whips out his phone and checks the time. “Oh, snap, I did.” He laughs. “Should I leave and come back?”

“What on earth are you saying? Come in!” Jisung pulls Hyunbin inside by the crook of his elbow. “I have to turn on all the lights, but feel free to sit down.” Before he goes to do that, he turns to Hyunbin and points his finger. “Don’t touch anything you’re not supposed to.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Hyunbin chuckles. He settles at a table with two chairs, long legs reaching the other side easily. “Actually, I dreamt I got trapped in the pastry display case once. I had to eat the plastic macarons and shortcakes to survive. That freaked me out.”

“Scary,” Jisung says. “No cake today, then?”

“I’ve long gotten over my trauma,” Hyunbin proclaims, tone tottering close to proud. “Whenever you’re ready, I’d love a slice of blueberry cheesecake. And a cappuccino.”

Jisung smiles. “Do you want me to draw you something in the foam, too?”

Hyunbin crosses his arms and tilts his head, as if contemplating it. “I mean, if it’s not too much to ask...” Jisung rolls his eyes.

Out of all their regulars, Jisung is quite taken with Hyunbin. Last spring, Hyunbin had started frequenting the café when he moved into the apartment complex closeby. He’s working as a model at a big agency (though he refuses to disclose which one, much to the dismay of the curious _MMO_ gang) and comes in for drinks for him and the other amatuer models. Hyunbin isn’t the brightest tool in the toolbox, but he’s got a rich personality. After getting past the laziness and immature mentality, Hyunbin is actually a cool guy to have a conversation with.

After Jisung sets Hyunbin’s cake and coffee (accented with a leaf) onto the table, he asks, “Why are you here so early anyway? You’re normally sleeping all morning like a koala. I’ve never seen you here before noon, let alone before opening!”

“I’m full of surprises, Jisung hyung,” Hyunbin hums, taking a bite of his cake. He motions for Jisung to sit and, since the café hasn’t opened yet, he does. “Do you know I was able to sleep for a full twenty-eight hours once?”

Jisung’s jaw drops. “Hyunbin, I think you were in a coma.”

“It sounds less impressive when you say it like that,” Hyunbin says, frowning. He sips from his cup, letting out a shameless laugh. “Actually, I got kicked out of the dorm. That’s why I’m here early.”

“What? Why?” Jisung asks. He makes a face. “Did you fight with you roommates? Do I need to have a long talk with them? I’m good at those.”

Hyunbin snorts. “Nah, it was my fault. It was laundry day yesterday, but I forgot it was my turn. Hoolim couldn’t find his lucky shirt because it was buried under two weeks of dirty laundry. And I broke the bathroom sink, unrelated, so the guys told me to leave before I somehow killed the plumber. Hyojun said not to come back ‘til lunchtime.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Jisung coos, pinching Hyunbin’s cheek. Hyunbin has the worst luck. One time, he’d come into the café, soaking wet, because his umbrella had flown out of his hands and gotten run over by a bus.

“It’s not all bad.” Hyunbin shrugs. He hides a grin behind his coffee cup. “I get an extra hour alone with the illustrious Yoon Jisung. Who wouldn’t want that?”

“Kwon Hyunbin!” Jisung exclaims, baffled. Hyunbin laughs. “You flatter me, and you know what? Flattery will get you _everywhere_. Do you want another cake? On the house.”

“Yes please!”


	23. get ugly team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sci-fi au feat. ongniel, samhoon, and jinseob #remember when they got called the guardians of the galaxy because i do
> 
> 1795 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in honor of wanna one picking their fandom name (wannable.... lmao this needs to grow on me) this will be the last drabble for a long time!! and it's a longer one, wow!!! i won't be checking this fic for while, so i just wanna say thank u for the love & comments!!! i'll be sure to comment back at a future date :-) if u really need me, i'll still be active on tumblr~

For the sixth time in the last five minutes, Samuel slaps Hyungseob’s hand before the older boy can wrap his fingers around the plasma ray latched onto the wall. “We’re trying to _save_ the planet here, not take over it,” he says, stern.

Hyungseob twists his lips. “Samuel, the opportunity is _right there_.” He gestures to the long hall of guns and swords on either side of them. “There are so, _so_ many weapons in front of me right now. This one— This one’s _six_ different colors. This one runs on _moonlight_. And this one has a _laser_!”

“Don’t,” Samuel says.

“They’re all calling my name! ‘Hyungseob... Ahn Hyungseob... the best pilot in the galaxy... You know you wanna pull the trigger... Spectral disturbances are an art... Imagine the blast radius...’ Okay, just one—”

“If you touch anything, we’re literally gonna die. Literally. All of us.” Samuel rubs his temples, exhaling. “Woojin, watch him.” Samuel glances at Woojin, whose eyes are blown wide as he’s caught with his hands gripping an obsidian sword by the hilt.

“Woojin, please tell me you’re not doing the thing I just said not to do. _Please._ ”

“Um.” Woojin slowly moves the sword behind his back, unsuccessfully schooling his face into a neutral expression. The tip of the sword is about half a foot above his head, clearly _not_ hidden. “Um.”

While Samuel is stunned speechless, Hyungseob takes the opportunity to sprint across the hall and pluck three guns off the wall, barrel rolling into another corridor. Samuel snaps out of it but misses the chance to bring him back, so he just falls to his knees, defeated. Woojin tiptoes (in loud, heavy combat boots) down the same corridor Hyungseob had escaped into. Samuel is, again, stunned speechless.

“Why am I in this squad?” he groans, distressed, but he knows the reason all too well.

Because they are what the academy calls the _Dream Team_. Kang Daniel, the levelheaded mastermind behind the entire space operation. Ong Seongwoo, the all-arounder who can charm the pants off every creature in the galaxy. Ahn Hyungseob, the only human to fly the YH-399 perfectly without ever needing instructions. Park Woojin, the navigator who can cut the corners of space like he’s jumping atop stones. Park Jihoon, the ever capable shooter who captures every target with precision and accuracy. Kim Samuel, the engineer who fixes the ship and the team when things go awry. Together, they’re an unstoppable force.

Unfortunately, all of them had left said academy, just a few months ago. The explanation for that, if it hadn’t been obvious enough, is because none of them could take any, _any_ of the curriculum seriously. Not the simulations, not the rules, not the restrictions. Not even Samuel could deal with the restraints the academy put on their freedom. Departing from the space missionary program had been the best decision they’d ever made, in his opinion.

The following day, the friends had banded together after an eavesdropping session that regarded the destruction of the planet via cosmic deities and elemental stones acquired across the galaxy.

“I heard all this _accidentally_ ,” Seongwoo had concluded, after recounting it to his friends, with an inexplicable amount of pride.

Daniel had been the one to take command of the situation, asking, “Who wants to save the world? Us. We get the stones first, get them into the right hands, and then get a medal of honor or something for being heroes. Get, get, get.”

“Heroes,” Samuel had echoed vaguely. “I’m in.”

“It’ll be like a giant scavenger hunt!” Hyungseob had exclaimed. “And, at the end of it, we won’t die. Maybe. That’s nice!”

With Daniel, there was Seongwoo. With Samuel, there was Jihoon. With Hyungseob, there was a stolen spaceship (and Woojin). And thus, the squad was born.

So, space vigilantes. Samuel’s still getting used to the title, but it’s... it’s something. They’ve tried to keep it low-key, but Samuel seems to be the only one who _cares_ about that anymore. After each planet they visit, the members get more reckless. The first planet had been what Samuel was expecting for each of the retrievals: assigning positions, mapping terrain, grabbing the stone, and leaving without a trace. There had been a _system_.

Now, it’s a whole mess! Half the team is off to who knows where, Hyungseob wants to touch _everything_ , and they have no plan for finding the stone! It’s chaos!

Samuel is the textbook definition of _stressed_.

Thankfully, Daniel and Seongwoo return not too long after Samuel’s breakdown begins, Woojin under the former’s arm and Hyungseob under the latter’s. They let the troublemakers go once they see Samuel, still on his knees, still distressed. Woojin and Hyungseob aren’t holding the weapons anymore, which is great, but Seongwoo has a substantially large blaster gun hoisted over his shoulder and a smug grin plastered on his face. The blaster gun is not theirs. Samuel is about to voice this fact when Daniel interrupts him.

“Okay, before you get mad at us, this is entirely Seongwoo’s fault. He ran into a guard, knocked him unconscious, and took the guy’s weapon.”

“Guilty,” Seongwoo says, shrugging. He doesn’t look bothered at all. Samuel is very bothered.

Woojin mutters, “You mugged him.”

“Self-defense!” Seongwoo counters. “I mean, his wallet _conveniently_ fell out of his pocket at that moment, but I didn’t _take_ it.” Woojin and Hyungseob both scoff.

“You’re our captain, Daniel!” Samuel cries, scrambling to his feet. “How could you let him do that!? We’re trying to keep violence to a minimum! We’re trying to keep our _presence_ to a minimum!”

“We all make mistakes, Samuel. Some, more than others.” Daniel sighs like it can’t be helped. “In my case, I constantly make the mistake of believing Seongwoo has self-control.”

Seongwoo grins. “I have zero self-control.”

Samuel shakes his head. Of all places to have this discussion, they’re in a _weapons storage facility_. It’s a real surprise Hyungseob hasn’t managed to shoot someone (read: Woojin) in the foot yet.

“We’re still missing Jihoon,” Samuel murmurs. He clasps his hands together, holding his forehead against them. “Dear cosmos, please tell me Jihoon wasn’t eaten by a venus fly trap. Not again. He’s the only one who can keep us alive in a meteor shower.”

Daniel, out of mockery or genuineness, prays alongside Samuel.

“Found him!” Hyungseob shouts, thirty-six minutes later, because the cosmos hate Samuel.

Samuel rushes to Jihoon, taking him by the shoulders, looking him up and down for any injuries. Jihoon lets him, because he always lets him, and smiles when Samuel lets out a sigh of relief. No burns, cuts, or bruises to be seen. Jihoon’s lips are chapped, but they’re always chapped, so it’s nothing to worry about.

“Where have you been?” Samuel asks, trying not to sound angry. He’s not, but he is, but he’s _not_ , and things are just messy whenever he thinks of Jihoon’s safety. He probably needs to have another heart-to-heart session with Jisung, a kindhearted superior from the academy who hasn’t denounced him for leaving and actively listens to Samuel whine about Jihoon being “too perfect.”

“I was gathering intel,” Jihoon proclaims. “For the mission. I learned that the government keeps all the valuable artifacts underground, behind the really sticky forest with purple trees. Lots of security, but we could definitely break through. The stone is bound to be there.”

Samuel’s jaw drops, impressed. “Someone on our team is _actually_ following orders.” The statement is enough for Daniel to gasp, but again, it’s indiscernible from legitimate or mocking. “Wow, I could kiss you.”

Jihoon beams. Hyungseob pretends to gag.

Seongwoo cuts in dramatically, “You call them orders; I call them advised suggestions. You call it a mission; I call it a wacky adventure.” He bumps Jihoon with his newly acquired weapon. “Jihoon, have you seen my gun? Look at how cool it is! I got it off a guard!”

“Mugged,” Woojin coughs. Hyungseob pats him on the back with a plasma ray. Samuel doesn’t even have it in him to tell him to put it back.

“Oh! That reminds me,” Jihoon says, laughing. “I think the betrothed princess of this sector asked for my hand in marriage, so I may’ve caused a tiny civil war. Itty-bitty.”

Samuel chokes back a scream. Seongwoo whistles, and Daniel offers a bro-hug. Jihoon accepts it happily.

“Congratulations!” Hyungseob cheers, clapping, the plasma ray cradled to his chest. He pauses. “The marriage part, not the war.” Samuel buries his face in his hands.

“I always thought Daniel and Seongwoo would get married first,” Woojin says offhandedly.

Seongwoo scoffs, “Daniel can’t commit.” Said male frowns, offended.

“That’s not a secret,” Jihoon says.

Samuel loudly clears his throat. “I take it back. No kisses. No marriages.” He looks around at everyone, expression pained. “Guys, the whole plan was to find the elemental stone on this planet and _leave_. We have three more to get to in, what, less than a week? What are we doing?”

“Having a little fun!” exclaims Hyungseob. “Y’know, before the galaxy goes down the toilet.”

“We’re trying to save it _before_ it can do that!”

“You worry too much, Young Muel,” Daniel chides, casually putting his arm around the younger boy’s shoulders. “Everything is under control. We’ll get the stone, Hyungseob will fly us out, and then we—”

“Ouch!”

Hyungseob’s shriek, combined with Woojin’s scream, gets everyone’s heads to turn. Woojin is on the ground, one shoe off, grimacing with eyes wide. His left shoe is five feet away from him and smoking, a large hole going through it. Hyungseob is standing, clasping the plasma ray tightly in his arms, which is also smoking from.

“I’m fine! We’re fine! I didn’t shoot Woojin!” Hyungseob shouts hysterically. Obviously, no one believes him. He doesn’t even look like he believes himself. “T-Technically,” he stutters.

“We’ve doomed the planet,” Samuel moans.

Woojin picks up his ruined boot, sighing. “I’m gonna need a new shoe.”

——

The world doesn’t end. The Dream Team doesn’t get medals, because a series of statues are agreed to be erected on the planet’s capital for them. Samuel doesn’t have a heart attack when Woojin steers them into a wormhole, and Daniel doesn’t break his arm fighting off a giant spider. Seongwoo doesn’t mug anyone — at least, that’s what he claims every time someone asks. Hyungseob doesn’t go to jail for stealing a spaceship, and Jihoon doesn’t actually cause a civil war for angering a princess who wants to marry him.

But there _is_ a wedding, a few months down the line, with a broken shard of an earth stone as the engagement ring. And Woojin gets a new pair of kicks, courtesy of Hyungseob, half a size too big, but Woojin won’t tell him that.


	24. hong eunki/byun hyunmin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> taekwondo & ballet au
> 
> 628 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things to note:  
> -my life sucks  
> -i love wanna one so much it hurts  
> -there was a jinseob drabble that was supposed to be 1k but it's looking to be over 15k and i hate myself still

Eunki is soft. Hyunmin likes soft.

“I’m stronger than you, still,” Eunki declares, bumping Hyunmin’s shoulder. “You have no right to be calling me _soft_.”

Hyunmin hums, “Soft isn’t a bad word. It’s not an insult either.”

Eunki has been doing ballet for a few months’ Hyunmin has been training in taekwondo for almost three years. In their building the taekwondo studio is right across from the ballet studio. Having met through mutual friends, it had been a surprise seeing one another at the foot of the stairs. It hadn’t taken long to get to know one another on the forced trip up four flights of stairs, given the broken elevator.  It’s been a few months since then, and even though the elevator is fixed they still enjoy climbing up the steps together.

Nowadays, they just get to the building early to chat. Eunki is wearing his training clothes, bag with his shoes and water over his shoulder, and Hyunmin is dressed in his taekwondo uniform. They climb the stairs slowly, in no rush. The redundant _softness_ argument continues as they reach the second floor.

“I know!” Eunki exclaims. “But if anyone’s soft here, it’s you.” He laughs at Hyunmin’s pout. _Adorable._ “See? Now you look angry!”

“I can break boards with my fists,” Hyunmin declares, demonstrating the punches it would take to do so. He flips his hair out of his face. “Not soft.”

“And I can carry a person with one hand in the air with only one toe on the ground,” counters Eunki. He tilts his chin. “Not soft.”

Hyunmim holds back a grin. “Are we seriously trying to out-soft each other?”

“Very possibly,” Eunki giggles. He sees Hyunmin wince as he pulls his hands to his side. “Oh, dear, how’s your hand doing? Still sore?”

“I can move it,” Hyunmin says, flexing carefully with a slight grimace, “which is always a good sign.”

“Are you okay practicing today? You should avoid putting strain on it. You’ll mess it up more, if you work it too much.”

Hyunmin hums, “If I keep it wrapped and ice it later, I’ll be fine.”

Eunki stares hard at Hyunmin, unconvinced. “Are you sure?”

“Super sure.” Hyunmin grins. “If it makes you feel any better, I have to sit out anyway. Coach cut my practice time for the newbies.”

“There are new guys?”

Hyunmin nods. “A kid named Seonho. Another named Gunmin. Both of them show potential. Gunmin looks sweet, but he did a front flip and introduced himself all shy afterwards. Seonho is, hm... odd. He came to practice with a family-sized bag of chips and spent the whole time eating from it.”

“Wild,” Eunki laughs. “There’s a new guy in our studio, too. He’s Chinese. Zhengting is his name. He likes propping his leg on the barre during breaks.”

“Is he more flexible than you?” Hyunmin asks.

“Maybe. I haven’t tried competing against him,” Eunki hums. They reach the fourth floor, their studios already filled with their friends and training mates. It’s a few minutes until their practices start, conveniently at the same time, so they stand outside the studios, about to bid their goodbyes.

“Have fun, ballerino,” Hyunmin says.

“Five hours of blood, sweat, and tears. You bet I’ll have fun.” Eunki grins. “Lay off that hand, okay? After it’s healed, we can go to Lotte World and I can finally squeeze your hand during the rollercoasters.”

Hyunmin beams, “Like a date?”

“That all depends on your hand,” Eunki says. He turns around and waves. “You have fun, too, flying boy.”

Hyunmin would’ve done an aerial windmill right then and there if Eunki was still looking. What can he say? He likes to show off! And a windmill conveniently doesn’t need a hand to look awesome.


	25. lee daehwi/kim samuel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> post pd101 finale nonau
> 
> 693 wc

“Hey,” says Samuel, but he’s lost that smile on his face and that twinkle in his eyes. He’s lost more than that, Daehwi knows. “I saw your mom.”

“Oh, did you?” Daehwi talks softly. He’s sitting against the wall, outside the bathroom, and Samuel is standing above him, the lavender of his hair looking so out of place with the redness of his eyes and nose. “What’d she say? Sit with me, Muel. You’re not leaving yet, are you?”

Samuel shakes his head and slides down the wall, his knee knocking against Daehwi’s. “She said a lot of things,” he chuckles, biting his lower lip. “At first, she didn’t know whether to speak to me in Korean or English. I told her either was fine, but she stuck with Korean.” 

“She must’ve talked your ear off,” Daehwi says. His mother tends to ramble when she’s emotional. Like mother, like son.

Samuel smiles. “The first thing she said was that I was more handsome in person,” he proclaims. Daehwi lightly hits his thigh, rolling his eyes. “As for the second...” Samuel lets out an exasperated sigh. “She said she felt sorry I didn’t make it.”

Daehwi looks at Samuel, gaze gentle. “Did she really?” 

“Well,” Samuel starts, cocking his head to the side. He leans towards Daehwi. “She said she was sorry I didn’t get to debut with you.”

The statement makes Daehwi’s heart ache. Everyone, from the trainers to the trainees, had been expecting Samuel’s name to be called. Daehwi had kept telling Samuel, during the live voting, how he had to go up. He had to. They had promised to meet at the top, one sleepless night months ago, where the practice room became both a sanctuary and a prison. Daehwi and Samuel, center and center-to-be. Samuel had liked to lay on Daehwi’s stomach, hearing the hungry rumbling, snickering when Daehwi would hide his face, embarrassed. Things had been easy in the beginning. Predictable. Together.

The final votes were cast, but Samuel hadn’t made it into the pyramid. Daehwi had wondered if he’d given too much hope in the national producers, but how could he doubt them when they had been the ones to send him to third? How could he doubt when he had been shown as some pitiful number between eleven and fourteen? How could he doubt?

And yet they let Kim Samuel slip through their fingers, landing in eighteenth, so far from the cut-off, too far from Daehwi. The world is cruel, unfair, and painful to live in. It’s reality.

“She really wanted you to take center,” Daehwi says, but his voice cracks when Samuel tries to smile. “After me, that is.”

“Don’t cry, Daehwi. You’ll look gross. Your makeup will run. I’m fine.” Samuel interlaces his fingers with Daehwi’s, shaking their hands and pressing a chaste kiss onto the back of his palm. “We’re fine, right?”

Daehwi sniffles. “Of course we’re fine, jerk.” He rubs his eyes, not caring about the makeup, not caring about the mess. “I wanted to be with you, though. I wanted us to make music together. We had a plan. We had our dream.”

Samuel chuckles. “It’s still  _ our _ dream,” he says. “You’re only a few steps ahead of me. Wanna One isn’t permanent either.” 

“Nothing’s  _ really _ permanent,” Daehwi grumbles.

“You’re supposed to be the more positive one out of us,” chides Samuel. He leans his head against Daehwi, shutting his eyes. “Even if it’s temporary, let’s stay like this. Just me and you.”

Daehwi scoffs, “Outside the bathroom?” 

“Unless you wanna go inside the bathroom,” Samuel says, eyebrows raised. “I mean, the floor’s more unsanitary in there. It’s a mix of Haknyeon’s tears and pee.”

“Muel!” Daehwi exclaims, incredulous, but he’s laughing and Samuel’s laughing and it suddenly feels okay to be here. To be outside the bathroom, ranked third out of ninety-eight, holding Samuel’s hand. It’s okay.

“Hey,” Samuel says. “When you’re promoting as Wanna One, with all the other guys... Remember that I’m gonna catch up, okay? Don’t forget where I am.”

Daehwi shakes his head. “Never in a million years.”

Samuel squeezes Daehwi’s hand. “I’m holding you to that.”


	26. ha sungwoon/noh taehyun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> university au where sungwoon & taehyun are Ultimate Bro Goals
> 
> 1.1k wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *watch out children i mention drugs

When Taehyun’s best friend of ten years comes up to him in the middle of Ong Seongwoo’s party, wrists in handcuffs and claiming _I didn’t do anything wrong_ , Taehyun does the rational thing any sensible best friend would do.

“Sungwoon, I know this, and I love you. Let’s get you out of those.”

“There’s one problem,” Sungwoon starts, after they’ve exited the house and are standing on the front lawn. Choi Minki, an underclassman in fashion design, is poaching the plastic flamingos in the garden. The best friends pay him no mind.

“Let me guess,” Taehyun says with an exaggerated eye roll. “You lost the key and can’t get out.”

“I didn’t  _ lose  _ the key,” insists Sungwoon. “The guy who handcuffed me—  _ he _ was the one who...  _ misplaced  _ the key.”

Taehyun rolls his eyes once more. “And who was that, hm? Anyone I know?”

Sungwoon gnaws on his lower lip. “Okay, first, no judging. Absolutely no judging.”

“You’re in _handcuffs_ right now. Are you kidding me? How much _more_ can I judge you? Wait, lemme take some pics real quick. Gotta savor the moment.”

While Taehyun gets a few photos of a handcuffed Sungwoon on his camera roll, as well as one posting onto his Snapchat story, Sungwoon grumbles inaudibly under his breath. Taehyun punches his shoulder.

“You gotta say it louder, bro. I just spent the last two hours getting deafened by The Chainsmokers and Justin Bieber. I’m pretty sure a drunk Jaehwan sat next to me at one point and just screamed for ten minutes.” Taehyun makes a big show of holding his hand to his ear and leaning close. “Say it one more time.”

Sungwoon groans. “Kwon Hyunbin,” he mutters, and right away Taehyun bursts into laughter. “I hate you.”

“Kwon Hyunbin!” Taehyun guffaws, clutching onto his stomach as he cackles hysterically. Sungwoon, face hard, is not amused. “That’s the guy who’s either super high on pot or sleeping! Awesome! Why’d he handcuff you?”

“There were...” Sungwoon grimaces. “Circumstances.”

Taehyun is on the ground now, wheezing, rolling, kicking out his legs like a turtle that can’t get off its back. Minki carefully steps over him, two plastic flamingos under his arm. Behind him Kang Dongho, his unofficial babysitter, follows with a sigh.

“Enlighten me,” Taehyun says, sitting up and wiping actual tears from his eyes. “Oh, man, this’ll be good.”

“I was in Jonghyun’s room,” Sungwoon starts unwillingly, “and Hyunbin was there. He was under the bed, eating from tray of brownies, and—”

“Isn’t he, like, six-two? How did he even fit?”

“He literally spanned the entire bed underneath and then some. I took a picture, I’ll show you later. His feet were sticking out at one end and his head and shoulders were out the other.” Sungwoon sighs. “Donghan was there, too, but he couldn’t fit under the bed with Hyunbin so he stayed in the closet with Kenta. Extremely ironic.

“Anyways, Hyunbin was there. He’d eaten about half the tray by the time I got there, and he was trying to talk about this summer magic camp he went to back in middle school. Something about learning how to do card tricks and have doves fly out of your-”

“Hold on,” Taehyun interrupts, putting up a hand while the corners of his lips quirk dangerously. “ _Magic camp?_ ”

“You know, hyung, I try not to judge him. I really, really try.” Sungwoon stares at his handcuffed wrists. His shoulders slump. “It’s so hard.”

“Duly noted. Hyunbin is a magician. Go on.”

“So I take a seat by the window, ask where Jonghyun went, and then Hyunbin’s like, ‘Huh. I dunno. Maybe at magic camp.’ And he stares at me, eating his brownies. Geonhee — he’s there, too — tries to steal a bite, but Hyunbin slaps him before he can. So he goes back to his magic camp story, how Jonghyun might currently be there, something about trapping himself in a chest for four hours. And then he asks me, ‘Do you wanna see a magic trick?’”

Taehyun snorts, “Was he hitting on you?”

Sungwoon grimaces. “Real talk, Hyunbin is head-over-heels for Minhyun. I’m pretty sure, in his high mind, the thought of flirting with anyone _but_ Minhyun would make him go nuts.”

“A cactus would have a better chance with Minhyun than Hyunbin.” Taehyun purses his lips, unimpressed. “Back on topic. Hyunbin is a magician.”

Sungwoon groans, rolling his eyes. “Hyunbin convinced me to put on handcuffs. They were in Jonghyun’s closet, I have no idea why, but I let him.”

“And you _volunteered_?” Taehyun can’t tell if the story is getting better or worse. His stomach can’t handle any more laughter, especially after learning the pothead giant of the university went to _magic camp_.

“I—” Sungwoon looks away, ashamed. “He was gonna do it to _someone_. I had to take one for the team. Kenta and Donghan were basically learning what love was in the closet. Geonhee was trying to fit a baseball into his mouth.” Sungwoon pauses. “In retrospect, handcuffing Geonhee would’ve been better.”

Taehyun nods. He brings his feet to a butterfly position, rocking forward. “What’s the deal with the key, then?”

This is where Sungwoon turns bright red, from his cheeks to his ears, hiding his face in his hair. “Hyunbin...” He makes a pained sound. “Hyunbin stuck it in his pants.”

“ _What_.” Taehyun can’t take it. This _has_ to be a prank. Everything is so ridiculous. This can’t be real!

“He— He fell asleep. Right away,” Sungwoon continues. “I wasn’t going to try to _reach_ for it. That’s— That’s harassment! Hyunbin is such a sweet guy, too... I couldn’t do that to him. Geonhee was already whipping out the permanent marker to deface him. The baseball was still in his mouth, there was drool, ugh—”

“Okay, okay! Don’t burst a blood vessel, bro,” laughs Taehyun. He stands up and pats his backside, hoping he doesn’t have grass stains on his new jeans. “Should we go to the fire department and ask for the jaws of life?”

Sungwoon gapes, “How would we explain this? How could I tell them _that_?”

Taehyun scoffs. “Have some respect, Sungwoon. You need to keep your dignity. That’s your only redeeming feature.”

Unimpressed, Sungwoon asks hotly, “What would we say?”

Taehyun shrugs. “Well... We can say that we tried to get kinky but messed up. I’m sure it happens all the time.”

Sungwoon almost looks touched. “You would do that for me?”

“I would,” Taehyun says brightly, hooking an arm over Sungwoon’s shoulders. “Now, before we head to the fire station, lemme see if Hyunbin has any more of those—”

“ _No._ ”


	27. kang dongho/kang daniel & lai guanlin/park jihoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uhhh dongho is guanlin’s father & daniel is the principal au
> 
> 1276 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -can u believe wanna one debuted  
> -can u believe that i still cry every time i see them  
> -can u believe i'm literally in love with kim jaehwan  
> -can u believe i dedicated over 50k of fanfic to this group & show  
> -can u believe that so many trainees from pd101 are finding success

When Dongho gets his car parked, he runs out and goes straight into the school. He’s already memorized the way to the principal’s office — down the hall, to the left, then two rights. He forgoes knocking on the slightly ajar door and goes straight in, bowing to Jisung, the secretary, and then seeing his young boy looking horribly solemn in the chair too big for an eight-year-old.

“Guanlin!” he exclaims, dropping to his knees and taking his son’s hands in his. Guanlin’s lower lip is wobbling, but like always he doesn’t show any sign of crying. “You had me worried, kid. You’re not hurt, are you?”

Guanlin shakes his head. “No, Pops, but the other kid is,” he mutters. “Sorry.”

Dongho ducks his head to hide a laugh. Guanlin starts to show a small smile. “Did you win?” he asks, and Guanlin nods. Dongho pinches his cheek and then pats his head. “Wah, good job.”

“Mr. Kang.”

Craning his neck, Dongho looks up and sees the principal standing tall, exasperated smile on his face. “Hey, Daniel. I didn’t see you there.” Guanlin waves, shy.

“You shouldn’t encourage your kid to fight,” Daniel says, sighing. “And you should call me Principal Kang when you’re on school grounds.”

Dongho stands and dusts off his pants. “You know that won’t happen,” he chuckles. “We’re too close for that.” Daniel shakes his head, incredulous, and they step out into the hall, closing the door behind them.

“Sorry about Guanlin,” Dongho says. “Do you know why he started the fight?”

“No clue. Jihoon is getting patched up in the nurse’s office right now.” Daniel scratches his chin. “Don’t worry, Dongho. Nothing major. Just a few scratches.”

Dongho rubs his face, exhaling. “This is the third time this year. I’m worried about him.” He glances at Daniel, unsure. “Am I... a bad father?”

Daniel frowns. “Dongho, we’ve talked about this.”

“I _know_ , but—” Dongho runs his hand through his hair, exasperated. “He doesn’t talk about school. I ask him, but he doesn’t like to. He gets shy.”

“Guanlin has lots of friends,” Daniel assures. “Almost everyone in his class is taken with him. The teachers love him, too.”

“That doesn’t explain the fights,” Dongho sighs.

“I think,” Daniel starts gingerly, “you have to make him talk. You can’t wait for him to say something. From what I know, Guanlin internalizes his feelings. He needs a little push.”

Nodding, Dongho glances back at the principal’s office. Guanlin is staring at his lap, kicking his legs. Jisung is walking up to him with a bowl of candy. Guanlin takes a lollipop, and Jisung sits next to him. They begin to play rock-paper-scissors, and Guanlin is giggling every time Jisung loses.

“Okay,” Dongho says. “Okay, I’ll try.” He and Daniel head back into the office. Guanlin and Jisung look up.

“Your dad’s back,” Jisung tells Guanlin, getting up to return to his desk. “And so is the principal, my boss who signs my paycheck. That, my dear, is my cue to get back to work.” Daniel rolls his eyes at Jisung’s dramaticism.

Guanlin licks his lollipop, grinning. “Hi, Pops.”

“Hey, kid,” Dongho greets. He kneels by Guanlin like he’d done before, resting his arm atop Guanlin’s thighs. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Dongho bites his lip. Daniel walks over and holds onto his shoulder comfortingly. Dongho looks back at him and nods, hoping that it shows his appreciation.

“Guanlinnie,” Dongho starts, “why’d you get in a fight with Jihoon?”

Guanlin takes the lollipop out of his mouth, twirling the stick between his fingers. “It wasn’t my fault,” he murmurs. Dongho frowns. “It— It wasn’t Jihoon hyung’s fault either.”

This time, Daniel frowns. “What do you mean by that, Guanlin?”

“Jihoon hyung,” Guanlin starts slowly, “is my favorite. He always plays with me. He’s so cool. And he’s so pretty, like a flower.”

“So why’d you fight him?” asks Dongho.

“We— We always fight,” Guanlin says simply. “Jihoon hyung likes fighting. I was too hard on him today. He fell and got hurt.” Jisung gasps.

Dongho says, “Why do you fight if you guys can get hurt? That’s no good. What if that was you, Guanlin? Would Jihoon be happy that you got hurt because of him?”

Guanlin purses his lips and shakes his head. “No, but! I like Jihoon hyung a lot, so I wanna do the stuff he likes. I dunno.” He resembles a duckling. Dongho ruffles his hair fondly. “Sorry, Pops.”

“Next time you see Jihoon, no fighting, okay? I don’t want either of you getting hurt. Promise me.”

It takes another lollipop, offered by Jisung, but reluctantly Guanlin murmurs, “I promise.” He locks pinkies with his father as they stand, too, to make it that much more official.

“Good boy.” Dongho grins.

“Guanlin,” Daniel calls, opening the door. “You’ve got a visitor.”

The small boy standing in the doorway has a wide grin on his face, despite the Finding Nemo band-aids lined up on his knee and cheek. He’s wearing a neon green shirt under denim overalls, his untied shoelaces matching in brightness. His hair is unruly and messy, like a bird’s nest that’s fallen off the tree. He does a few short laughs before skipping to Guanlin, who opens up his arms and hugs the smaller boy tight.

“Jihoon hyung, I’m sorry!” Guanlin cries. The boy — Jihoon — laughs.

“It’s okay. I’m not hurt. It was fun!” Jihoon trills. He looks at Dongho and Daniel, blinking curiously. “Hi, Principal Kang. Sorry for the trouble. Who’s this?”

“I’m Guanlin’s dad,” Dongho says, amused. He crosses his arms over his chest. “I heard you like fighting with my Guanlin.”

Jihoon freezes. “O-Oh, yeah,” he laughs nervously. “I like Guanlinnie. He’s cute!” Guanlin blushes.

“If you like him so much, no more fighting with him,” Daniel declares. Jihoon nods.

“I’m gonna marry Jihoon hyung,” Guanlin announces suddenly. Dongho sputters, Daniel chuckles, and Jisung gasps again. Jihoon laughs, absolutely tickled pink.

“What makes you say that?” Daniel inquires. He wraps his arms around Dongho’s waist, because the other man looks like he’ll faint from shock.

“I like Jihoon hyung,” Guanlin repeats. He presses a kiss to Jihoon’s cheek, where the band-aid rests, and grins his signature gummy smile. “We’ll be married, get lots of dogs, and kiss a lot. And no more fighting!”

“Woof!” barks Jihoon. Guanlin kisses him again, petting his hair.

“My son wants to get married before me,” Dongho says, incredulous.

Smiling, Daniel asks, “Is it too late for me to ask you to dinner, then?”

Dongho raises his eyebrows. “Seriously? Kang Daniel, young and handsome principal of my son’s school, wants to take _me_ on a date?” he teases. “Why, I’m flattered.”

“You’re making me embarrassed, Dongho.”

Guanlin tugs on Dongho’s hand. Dongho looks down to see both his son and Jihoon grinning up at him. “Pops, say yes,” Guanlin whispers. “We can all live in a big house. Me, you, Jihoon hyung, and Principal Kang. Principal Kang has lots of money.”

“Don’t tell lies, Guanlinnie,” Jisung pipes from the reception area. Daniel glares at him.

“I’d love to,” Dongho says. The confirmation makes Daniel beam, grinning brightly.

“Can I come, too?” Jihoon asks, innocent.

“No,” Dongho says. Guanlin gives him that kicked puppy look, pouting. “ _No._ ”

“I can’t believe my students are trying to crash our date,” Daniel chuckles.

“That’s my son,” Dongho adds. “Always trying to meddle.”

Guanlin hugs his father’s leg before scurrying back to class, hand-in-hand with Jihoon. Daniel and Dongho watch them go. When Jihoon trips on his shoelaces, taking Guanlin down with him, both Dongho and Daniel run out to help them.


	28. kim donghan/kim taedong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhhhhhhhh vampire au i guess
> 
> 1200 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beware children: consumption of alcohol, swearing, and a incoherent universe

In hindsight, Donghan should’ve seen this coming. It’s his bad luck, which has followed him into the club on this chilly Saturday night. Moonbok had recommended this place — _Under the Moonlight_ — and Donghan makes a mental note to write him off of his will if he survives this.

Rewind to approximately two hours prior.

Donghan, Moonbok, Seunghyuk, Donghyun, Hyunbin, and Yehyun are going to the club to celebrate Hyunbin’s first _A_ of the semester, twelve weeks in. While it may seem childish, Hyunbin is the kind of guy who thrives on praise, encouragement, and rewards. If he doesn’t get enough of them, he implodes on himself and can’t function for days. As a psychology major, Donghan is aware of how unhealthy that is, but he’ll leave that mess (read: Kwon Hyunbin) to the professionals.

Drinks are ordered. Shots are taken. At one point, Yehyun dares himself to kiss Seunghyuk square on the lips. Donghyun takes a shaky video, Hyunbin hollering obnoxiously in the background. Seunghyuk grimaces after Yehyun pulls away and says, “You taste like cheap vodka,” to which Yehyun replies, “I have no money, man.”

Later into the night, all of them end up on the dance floor. Hyunbin’s limbs are too long, too uncoordinated, but he has fun. The same can be said for Moonbok, as well as Yehyun and Seunghyuk to a lesser degree. Of their friends, Donghyun and Donghan have the most dance experience, both of them attending several years of dance classes in their youth. So they all dance, young and wild and free, the ear-splitting music flooding into their systems.

That’s how Donghan meets him. Messy strands of silver hair, clean-cut vest and and maroon tie. He looks more suited to stand at the front of a classroom rather than the center of the dance floor. Yet he’s here, dancing with the rest of them, popping and locking, body rolling in time with every song that plays. Donghan is entranced by the way he moves, effortlessly and beautifully, so he does what every drunk and infatuated guy would do in this situation.

Donghan dances with him. The man is surprised at first, but it doesn’t take long for him to match Donghan’s step, give as Donghan takes. Soon they’re not only dancing, but they’re smiling, talking, laughing.

At least, Donghan thinks they are. He’s been drinking a lot, so he may very well have been making an ass out himself. It wouldn’t be the first time. The man, though, is the one to take his hand and lead him off the dance floor. He seats them at the bar, but he doesn’t buy Donghan a drink. Instead, he calls for a bowl of cherries and they end up eating the whole thing as they chat.

The man, with plush lips and a wry smile, introduces himself as Kim Taedong. He goes to the same university Donghan and his friends do, a history major. He loves dancing, which is why he frequents clubs on the weekends to let off steam and just be himself. Donghan likes that a lot, and he voices it aloud.

“It’s embarrassing,” Taedong says, shaking his head, but the action makes Donghan want to pinch his cheeks.

Suddenly, Hyunbin and Moonbok buy them drinks, a whole round for whoever’s at the bar. Taedong hesitates, but he takes a shot of vodka with Donghan and lets a grin bloom onto his face. A few more drinks in and the expression stays the same, despite Donghan getting more and more bleary-eyed and tipsy.

It’s not fair. Donghan doesn’t see a flush on Taedong’s cheeks or any sign of slurred words and impaired movement. If he’s keeping with Donghan’s pace, he should be as shit-faced as Donghan is. And Donghan is _very_ shit-faced.

With all the strength he apparently has, Donghan drags Taedong outside the club and questions him. It takes a few tries, because Donghan forgets the word for “red” and can’t describe it, but eventually he asks the right questions without sounding like a fool. He asks a whole load of questions, firing them off after another, not realizing what he’s asked until the words fall out of his mouth. Donghan only stops when Taedong holds him against the wall, eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.

“I’m a vampire.”

Back to the present.

Donghan is in the dimly lit alley behind the club, trapped between the wall and Taedong, the man’s arms on either side of his head. Donghan’s voice is caught in his throat. Once he’s able to force it out, the sound is a feeble croak that has him blushing from mortification.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Which, to a vampire, isn’t a great question to ask — Donghan has sobered up enough to realize this. It’s like asking a policeman if he’s going to arrest you. Like, maybe he wasn’t thinking it before, but he’s probably more inclined to now.

Taedong’s eyes go comically wide as he backs away several steps. “No! No, I wouldn’t dare,” he says in a flurry. Donghan must not look convinced, because he drops to the ground and holds his face in his hands. “God, I messed this up.”

“I’m the one who’s gotten tangled with a vampire,” mutters Donghan. He shrinks when Taedong looks his way.

“Sorry,” Taedong says. “Sorry, Donghan. I really am.” If Donghan stares hard enough, he can see the fangs at the corners of his mouth. “I meant— Ah, I meant telling you this way. I didn’t mean to say anything.”

Donghan gapes. “You weren’t gonna _tell_ me you were a vampire?”

“Eventually! Eventually, I would.” Taedong stands, fixing his collar and making Donghan squirm under his honest gaze. “It’s... hard for me to admit, being a vampire and all. Nobody really likes us around. We get a bad rep. It’s easier to keep my identity hidden than to let the world know.” He sighs. “You wanted answers, and I didn’t know how else to give them to you.”

“So you gave me one,” Donghan says slowly. “You gave me your secret.” He frowns. “No, I _took_ it from you. I’m a bad human.”

Taedong laughs. “You’re not. You just made me nervous,” he assures. He looks soft, too soft to be a vampire. “I’m not going to kill you. And I don’t want to suck your blood. I mean, not unless you want me to.” He bites his own lip, and Donghan watches how his teeth shape perfectly against it.

“You’re drunk,” Donghan accuses, feeling his face start to heat up.

“Vampire fun fact: we don’t get drunk. Can’t.” Taedong’s smile wavers when Donghan sways to the side. “Although _you_ can, obviously. Should I take you home?”

Donghan pouts as Taedong takes him by the arm. “Not fair,” he grumbles. “You’re a _polite_ vampire. I’m gonna have to invite you into my apartment and you’ll have your way with me. Not fair at all.”

Taedong lets out a disbelieving scoff. “I wouldn’t! We haven’t even had our first date yet.”

“Talk to me about it in the morning,” Donghan sighs, leaning onto Taedong’s side. He hums. “Remind me to put Moonbok back on my will.”

“Uh, sure thing.”


	29. park jihoon/lai guanlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we met at a friend’s wedding au
> 
> 1711 wc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone!! here's a shoutout to the [wanna one fanfiction awards](wannaoneffawards.tumblr.com) :-) it's a neat idea to celebrate fics in the wanna one fandom that u enjoy reading!! give it a look!!!
> 
> and uh, warning for drinking this chapter lmao it's a wedding

“How many drinks will it take to make me forget I saw Jinyoung making out with Daehwi in the bathroom?” Jihoon bemoans, gripping the bottle of white wine tightly in his two hands. He stares at the pristine label, the three-quarters full contents. “God, can I just down this entire thing?”

“Choking hazard,” Sewoon snorts, though he makes no move to stop Jihoon from filling his glass to the brim. “Can’t you let them have their night? It _is_ their wedding.”

Minki, seated to Jihoon’s right, snatches the wine bottle from Jihoon. “Save some for the rest of us,” he huffs. “We only get one of these per table. And unlike _some_ people—” He not-so-subtly side-eyes Euiwoong, “—I can’t survive off kitty cocktails and milk.”

“I like not having hangovers, thank you very much,” Euiwoong proclaims with an oversaturated smile. Minki parrots that statement back at him, an octave higher, as he pours wine into his own glass.

“Why were they making out in the bathroom?” Jihoon groans. Half his glass is now empty. “Any other place would’ve been fine. The party bus. The lobby. Under the head table, for all I care. But no. Nooo. They choose the two-stall bathroom, where I was washing my hands and _minding my own business_. I need bleach.”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” Hyungseob starts, slicing into his overdone steak. He gnaws on a piece and smiles. “At least the desserts table is open.”

“Why would that—”

The sound of clattering silverware and an overturned chair follow as Sewoon bounds out of his seat, sprinting to the other side of the hall. Jihoon’s wine spills onto his plate of chicken, which he wasn’t going to eat anyway but still frowns at.

“I’ve never seen Sewoon run that fast,” Minki remarks, raising his eyebrows. “Weddings really bring out the worst in you, huh.”

“I don’t even like sweets that much,” Jihoon grumbles.

Euiwoong kicks his foot under the table. “Come on, Jihoon. Lighten up! When’s the next time you’ll get to see a chocolate fountain?”

“Your wedding.”

“That’ll actually be a cheese fountain,” Hyungseob declares pointedly. “Euiwoong’s family has a thing for Swiss fondue. Don’t ask.”

Jihoon makes a face. “Okay,” he says, pushing out his chair. “I guess I’ll get a cookie or something. Dip my head in chocolate. Grab some pretzels while I’m at it.”

“Can you get me a cannoli?” Minki asks. “Before you dip your head in the fountain, preferably.”

“Sure. I’ll bring back vodka shots, too.”

Jihoon snickers as he hears Euiwoong scold Minki for his enthusiastic holler. He walks to the desserts table, passing by Sewoon, who carries two plates piled high with a rainbow of macarons. The reception is in full swing, hundreds of guests getting drunk or crowding the photobooth, so there isn’t a line for the desserts yet — no one seems to have noticed.

Jihoon takes a small dish and begins to put sweets on his plate. When he gets to the chocolate fountain on the end he stops. There is a tall man standing in front of it, holding a plate of his own with nothing on it. He doesn’t make any move to dip any marshmallows or strawberries into the oozing chocolate, just stares at the ribbons of chocolate melting back into the saucer. Jihoon clears his throat to get his attention.

The man turns, cheeks tinged pink, and blinks down at Jihoon. He tilts his head. “Hm. Oh, hi. What’s your name?”

“Park Jihoon. You’re blocking the chocolate fountain.”

“Sorry,” the man says, a squeaky laugh following it.

Jihoon tries not to show his embarrassment as the man watches him dip a marshmallow into the fountain. Talk about hovering. “Who might you be?” he tries, conversational. “Aside from, y’know, the guy blocking the chocolate fountain.”

“Lai Guanlin,” the man beams. His grin is all gums, and Jihoon is a little taken aback at how young he looks. Then again, he smells like someone dunked him in a tank of whiskey, so.

“That name... sounds familiar,” Jihoon says. He accidentally drops a strawberry into the fountain, the fruit disappearing to its gooey demise. He sighs and reaches for another one. “Uh, do I possibly know you?”

Guanlin takes a marshmallow from Jihoon’s plate and nods. “I’m a groomsman!” Ah, that explains why he’s so... upbeat. “My name is on the booklet. Right before Lim Youngmin and after Kim Donghyun. Park Woojin is on the bottom. And that’s just Daehwi’s side!”

“Right,” laughs Jihoon. He dips more fruits and sweets into the fountain, but when he goes to put them on his plate he finds that Guanlin has eaten what he put there last. He glares. “Do you mind?”

“I don’t,” Guanlin says cheerfully, remnants of a banana slice on the corner of his lips. “Keep them coming, Jihoon. You’re doing great!”

Jihoon wants to be mad, he _really_ does, but Guanlin’s cute. He’s like a giant panda bear. A handsome, fruit-stealing panda bear. The cycle of Jihoon-dip-Guanlin-eat is starting to hold up the line, though, so Jihoon snatches a cannoli for Minki and pulls Guanlin away by the arm.

“But I wasn’t done,” Guanlin murmurs.

“We can always come back to it,” Jihoon assures, patting Guanlin’s head. He feels Guanlin start to lean onto his side and he lets out a laugh. “Hey, do you want to take some shots with us?”

Guanlin perks up. “I’m in,” he says. At the bar top, where both he and Jihoon get carded, he declares suddenly, “Bet I can drink more than you.”

Jihoon raise his eyebrows. “Is that a _challenge_?” Guanlin nods excitedly.

“I’m here until one,” quips the bartender, a sneaky-looking man named Sungwoon, polishing a class. “Don’t forget to tip me. I accept all forms of currency, but I prefer Won and trashy stories to bring back to my conservative boyfriend, thanks. Have a good night!”

——

Jihoon wakes up in the hotel room with a hangover. He knows this because the clock reads close to noon and he’s not even in his _own_ hotel room.

Well, dang. He’s not in his suit anymore, which is both comforting and concerning. Sleeping in his suit would’ve made him all itchy in the morning, but he’s here now in only his pink t-shirt and boxers, his socks missing from his feet. He remembers bits and pieces of last night, and it occurs to him that he lost his socks after the dance floor closed — of all things, _seriously_?

The curtains of the room are drawn, but one of the desk lamps is lit. Jihoon knows that this is the right hotel; the designs are practically the same for every room. He attempts to sit up but crumples back down when he realizes that the soft pillow is a lot more welcoming than the overly air-conditioned air.

The bathroom door creaks open and Guanlin walks out, wearing a basketball jersey and short, a towel draped around his neck. “Ah, good morning, Jihoon hyung!”

Okay, this isn’t going to work.

“Can you, like, shhh. Just. Shhh.” Jihoon waits, eyes closed, until he hears a long beat of silence. “Wow, that’s... a billion times better. Wow.”

Then, Guanlin proceeds to turn on all the lights and Jihoon hisses, shielding himself under the blanket. He pokes his head out to glare at the taller male, but his eye catches on something else entirely, making his jaw drop and eyes widen to the size of saucers.

“Oh my God, is that—”

Following Jihoon’s line of sight, Guanlin nods. “Yeah, it is.” He sits next to Jihoon and tucks himself in. “Pretty wild, huh?”

“You _stole_ the chocolate fountain,” Jihoon gawks.

“ _We_ stole,” Guanlin corrects. “Don’t put the blame all on me. You were my accomplice, hyung. Team effort.”

Jihoon’s head is aching. “I don’t even know why I’m here in the first place,” he grumbles.

“We didn’t do anything too extreme. I’ll let it come back to you,” Guanlin promises, patting Jihoon’s head. “I ordered room service. The groom and groom are passed out in their suite, so I’m billing it to them.”

“Did you get chicken?” asks Jihoon.

“Fried, seasoned... and soup.”

Jihoon purses his lips. “Thank you,” he murmurs. Guanlin chuckles.

Most of Jihoon’s memories come back to him. He remembers rocking the dance floor with Minki, singing an EXO duet with Geonhee, making a toast to Jinyoung (which may or may not have included some petty anger for not being made a groomsman), beating Guanlin in a drink-off, making Guanlin lift him onto his shoulders to touch the ceiling, feeding Guanlin three slices of wedding cake...

So it appears he and Guanlin had become pretty good friends by the end of the night. Jihoon is a little older, so Guanlin had insisted on calling him “hyung.” Guanlin had showered him with praises and compliments for his cuteness and wit, making Jihoon’s ears go red more times than he can count.

They had gone to the photobooth seven times, but Jihoon only has two photo slips to show for it — one is a group of five or six people, all smushed together, and the other is just him and Guanlin, most of the photos capturing Jihoon preventing Guanlin from giving him a kiss and the last letting him. As for the chocolate fountain, apparently they had the bright idea to sneak it onto a food cart and bring it up the elevator to Guanlin’s room. Afterwards, they had turned on _Toy Story_ , tried to throw popcorn into it, and then knocked out.

“I think... I was plotting to steal the chocolate fountain the entire day,” Guanlin confesses, staring at said fountain, chopsticks scratching his plate. Jihoon had plugged it back in, the chocolate flowing out smoothly. “And you said you wanted to dip your head in it.”

Jihoon chokes on his chicken wing. “D-Did I do it!?”

“No, I stopped you from doing that. It would’ve been too messy.” Guanlin laughs. “You stuck a cup in it and drank from it, though. That was wild.” Jihoon groans, burying his face in his hands. “At least you had fun at the wedding, right?”

Peeking through the gaps of his fingers, Jihoon sighs. “Mm-hm. I guess did.”


End file.
